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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804008">Will You Still Be My Friend At The End?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocket_Full_Of_Bees/pseuds/Pocket_Full_Of_Bees'>Pocket_Full_Of_Bees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Turned Into a Ghost, DadSchlatt, Emotional Hurt, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Friend is Jschlatt, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Hybrids, M/M, Minecraft, Post-Manberg Festival on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Pre Doomsday but it does happen eventually, Repression, Sbi dynamic, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Temporary Amnesia, We need more dadschlatt ok, Yes beta thank you doll, mentions of abuse, sally is a shapeshifter you can’t stop me, schlatt used to be a good dad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:54:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,814</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28804008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pocket_Full_Of_Bees/pseuds/Pocket_Full_Of_Bees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghostbur wasn’t very good with sadness.<br/>It was silly! A silly emotion that just seemed to make very everything worse. Alivebur was so sad, he had to be killed before everyone was able to be happy again!<br/>Well, happy for a little while at least. The feeling always seemed to return anyways, no one was exempt from it. Not even Ghostbur, the sickly sludge of emotion clawing at his throat as if it were attempting to suffocate him from the inside out, and no amount of breathing could convince his broken lungs that didn’t air anymore that he wasn’t bleeding out in front of-<br/>It was fine! He was fine. He had his blue! It always seemed to suck the sadness away!<br/>The only problem was, what do you do when you find someone so full of used blue that their sweater is stained with it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cara | CaptainPuffy/Niki | Nihachu, Clay | Dream &amp; Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch, but like-in the background, dream kinda cheats with george, most of the romance is background so if you came for that sorry bucko, so ig - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>277</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. If The Rain Washes Away My Sins, There Will Be Nothing Left Of Me (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*obligitory notice that if the CCs are uncomfortable this will be taken down, and this is just their personas/characters, not the real people*<br/>So uh, ready for straight up angst?<br/>AU things right off the bat:<br/>-Ghosts melt in the rain, but it can’t kill them, just wound them. Their bodies become more liquidy and it HURTS LIKE A BITCH but they survive it. This applies to all bodies of water<br/>-This is after the Manburg festival, but before doomsday and Tommy escaping exile<br/>-Every other chapter the POV switches between Ghostbur and Glatt, it’ll say in the chapter name whose perspective it is<br/>-Hybrids exist here baybeeee because I said so.<br/>-Any romantic relationship that shows up is mostly background, there is post Quackity/JSchlatt but we all know how that turned out, and I can’t promise they’ll be together bc that was toxic af and I ain’t about that life<br/>Otherwise, this is my work, uhhhh yeah that’s it</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was raining. Again. </p><p>He can’t remember if he liked the rain before its existence threatened his own wellbeing, but Ghostbur is pretty sure that he could write an entire page in his memory journal about his distaste for it now. At least the snow was easier to dodge, allowing him to dance between the delicate flakes without as much threat of melting.</p><p>How funny was that? Rain being more melty than snow? That didn’t make sense in the slightest, but somehow that was how it was! He let out a soft chuckle at the thought, imagining what Fundy would say to that. Almost tempted to pop in and tell him about it, the smile that had begun to curl at his lips died almost as soon as it appeared. Fundy, Fundy had seemed very busy nowadays, so much so that he hadn’t even bothered to come back to his house to sleep at night.</p><p>It was fine, Ghostbur kept the cobwebs at bay for him in the meantime, his little champion was probably just having too much fun with his friends and lost track of the time. Maybe he was building something? It would explain why most of his things were missing, and why the house remained untouched.</p><p>Nevermind that no one else had seen Fundy in L’manburg for weeks.</p><p>Back to the initial problem. It was still raining. Ghostbur was stuck inside, unless he wanted to spend hours waiting for himself to dry out and have a lecture from Phil on why going out in the rain was dangerous. Not to mention, when he went with Tommy on holiday (he wondered why Tommy had gone on holiday? And with Dream escorting them nonetheless?) the rain had nearly melted him altogether until they had finally reached the treeline.</p><p>But it was fun walking along with Tommy! No amount of rain would change that for him. Tommy had seemed to appreciate that Ghostbur was there, even if he was too stubborn to admit it at the time. He had filled up all the blue that was given to him, and that was quite a lot, especially for the usually bright-eyed teen, always so alight with chaos.</p><p>Maybe the rain would stop soon, and he could go visit Tommy? He was probably lonely, and it wasn’t like Ghostbur needed to worry about dying on the rickety trail of logs that had been created as a makeshift path to Logstedshire and his little brother. The lava tickled, sure, and it wasn’t especially delightful when he got knocked over, but hey! He always managed to bring a smile to Tommy’s face when he did visit!</p><p>If Ghostbur had been a little less focused on the rain, he wouldn’t’ve noticed the splash of blue that had seemed to appear across the landscape, bright against the dreary gray of the skies. What was that? It couldn’t have been Techno, even in his new clothing, Techno’s wasn’t such a dark blue, and he certainly wouldn’t be hanging outside in the rain by L’Manburg, he was on holiday too! Or, that’s what Ghostbur was told at least.</p><p>So then who was that? A new person? Maybe a visitor from one of the new countries? They must have been so cold out by themselves! That just wouldn’t do, especially not if they were a newcomer.</p><p>All thoughts of melting aside, he rushed out from the house he had been taking refuge in, in the pursuit of this strange new person. He had never been good at listening to Phil anyways, and what harm could it do to greet a potential new friend?<br/>
Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to like that very much. Considering that once they had seen him, they immediately began running away. Huh. Not what was planned, but maybe they knew he couldn’t handle the rain, and just wanted to lead him to the treeline? How thoughtful of them!</p><p>Floating seemed to not work when his feet were beginning to mix with the rain, so he took the next best option and chased after this strange person. Branches flashed by him as they darted between the trees, and if he was still alive, Ghostbur was sure that he would be out of breath and panting by now. The perks of not needing to breathe he supposed.</p><p>Despite not needing to breathe, he would have liked to not get lost in the forest, so either he had to catch up to this mysterious stranger quickly, or, stop and head back.</p><p>Luckily, he didn’t have to decide, because as he was pondering it over, the figure stopped, and instead, turned around just as the two crashed into each other, into a tangled pile of limbs.</p><p>“Holy fuck! First you chase me and then you knock me over? What kind’ve-”</p><p>Did he know that voice?</p><p>“Wait. Wilbur?”</p><p>He absolutely did not!</p><p>With the chase finally ending, he was able to catch a better look at this new guy. His sweater first off, was the bright blue thing that he had seen out the window earlier, oversized and decorated with a little broken heart on his chest. The second thing he noticed was the curling horns on either side of his head, ram’s horns, like the sheep that sometimes wandered close to L’Manburg when it was nice out, if they weren’t scared away by whatever chaos was happening that day.</p><p>“Hi! I can understand your confusion, but I have to say, I’m not Wilbur, I’m actually Ghostbur! It’s a very common mistake, as Wilbur was alive, and I seem to be, well, dead.” This guy seemed to know him from when he was Alivebur, and he really didn’t want this new person to be disappointed by the news that he wasn’t him anymore. Might as well get the disappointment out of the way from the get-go, it saved more time that way.</p><p>The ram man (heh, that rhymed) continued to stare up at him in shock, before pushing himself up off the grass.</p><p>“Great. So one of the few people I remember is also dead. I can’t remember my own name, but I remember the guy that led to my death.”</p><p>“I did?” Oh. That wasn’t good. That was in fact, very sad, and very not good, Alivebur was worse than he thought if he killed someone, this was why he had to stay a ghost! So that no one else would die, and no one else would feel the pain-<br/>
“Whoa whoa, you okay there Loverboy?”</p><p>“What do you mean? I’m fine? Also, who are you?”</p><p>Who was this new person again? He swore that he had said something before about who he was, but Ghostbur couldn’t remember. It was fine though, it was probably just his memory on the fritz again.</p><p>“Wow, your memory seems to be more fucked than mine is, if you spaced out so hard you forgot already. I don’t seem to have a name honestly, or if I did I don’t remember it.” His ram ears flicked, as a bitter look crossed his new friend’s face. “All I do remember is a lot of bad things happening, and then me waking up here.”</p><p>“Would you like some blue?”</p><p>“The fuck?”</p><p>Ghostbur dug around in his pockets for a moment, until he pulled out a handful of blue. “It takes your sadness away! Though, I suppose you might already have your own blue, considering your sweater.”</p><p>“My, oh yeah, I have no idea how I have this anyways. I suppose there are worse things to be wearing in your afterlife.” With surprising gentleness, he took the powdery substance from Ghostbur, the transparency almost immediately turning into the signature navy. That was...concerning?</p><p>“We almost match in a way! With my yellow and your blue.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t say I carry around weird dyes like you do, but you do have a point. So, Ghostbur. I’m curious. If I can only remember the bad stuff, what do you remember? And uh, could you possibly get off of me? I’m starting to feel a little claustrophobic.”</p><p>Ghostbur gasped, immediately tumbling off of him before floating up to stand back on his feet. “Well, I remember good things! Like my son, and the smell of bread, and being stabbed to death with a sword!”</p><p>“Uh...that last one...that’s a good thing?”</p><p>“My alive self wasn’t an especially good person it seems.”</p><p>His friend pulled himself up, dusting off the dirt as best he could from his jeans. “You seem to be in the same boat as me in that regard Loverboy.”</p><p>“That’s the second time you’ve used that nickname for me!” Ghostbur’s eyes lit up, staring directly at him. “Can I give you one too? You said you don’t have a name right?”</p><p>“Uh, sure?”</p><p>“Then I’m going to call you Friend!”</p><p>The corner’s of his mouth began to curl ever so slightly at the nickname, as Friend tossed his arm over Ghostbur’s shoulder. “Sure. Why not?”</p><p>His grin stretched wider at the friendly response, and he knocked his head playfully with Friend’s. “I’ll show you around Friend! You can see L’Manburg with me!”

And before Friend could reply, Ghostbur dragged him off, the rain pelting down on both their ghost bodies all the while.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear<br/>Also, shout out to my beta reader, they are a lovely person and I appreciate them very much</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sometimes You Gotta Ask Yourself, What The Fuck (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hghhhh the angst begins to build fellas, buckle up your seatbelts to hell, this’ll be a slow build up angst and I am fully ready for it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was fucking weird. Everything about this was.</p><p>Wilbur? Ghostbur? Whoever the fuck he called himself? Didn’t remember anything that wasn’t happy. Which, by proxy, was also him. It was fair, considering that he had taken over his entire country, and then proceeded to run them both him and some other British kid out of said country. But shit, it still hurt that there was nothing good about him that Wilbur could remember. He couldn’t even tell if there were any good memories to be remembered, on account of him getting the short end of the stick with his own memories.</p><p>Another thing that was definitely not like his memories, was L’Manburg. Manburg? Whatever name they were calling it this time. Wasn’t this place smaller? And, not with a giant hole underneath it? Even the flag was different, a bright yellow heart over colored stripes instead of the black and gold x’s that were prominent during the time he was alive. It was hard not to sneer at it, though he didn’t know why. Must be an old habit. </p><p>The weirdest thing was, you didn’t even get to choose the side effects of being a ghost. He wasn’t even going to get into the fact that whatever higher being (if there was one, Ghostbur said there wasn’t, but he couldn’t be entirely sure) was a complete dick and gave him only the bad memories, but that he also melts now?? What dipshit decided that???</p><p>At least he had a name now. It too, was weird, but his dead heart seemed to beat for just a moment at the thought. </p><p>Wait. </p><p>What was his name again? He could have fucking sworn that Ghostbur had given him one. Don’t tell him that-</p><p>“We’re here! This is my house!” The cheery voice interrupted his confusion, and he turned to look at him, and then to the sewer he seemed so excited about. It was covered by some crane thing? It was probably a European something he didn’t know about, they were always trying to make things inherently theirs, those shits. </p><p>“Ghostbur this is a shithole.”</p><p>“Well, yes! It is a sewer after all. But it’s what’s under the sewer that’s important!” </p><p>“...Is it more shit?”</p><p>“No! Here, let me show you.”</p><p>A quick grab of his hand and a dunk into water (god they were ghosts, they shouldn’t be touching water, he could already feel his hands begin to melt, it was cold and damp and-) left them standing on the edge of the sewer, a wooden door carved with the name “Ghostbur,” like it was his childhood bedroom or some sappy shit like that. It at least distracted him from the feeling of melting, and the other, memories, so he would let it be for now. </p><p>“The real excitement is inside, I brew drugs!”</p><p>“Drugs huh? That sounds-” </p><p>The drug van. Everyone, standing around him. A sword held to his throat. His heart, spasming in his chest as he gazed around at everyone who had betrayed him. He snapped out of it, shaking his head.</p><p>“-great, that sounds great.”</p><p>“Friend?”</p><p>“Who...who’s Friend?”</p><p>“Why, you silly!” His gray face never lost it’s damn smile, even though it was obvious that he wasn’t sure how to react to this. </p><p>“Oh. I must’ve, forgot or something. Sorry.” </p><p>If Ghostbur noticed the awkward tension that fell between them, he didn’t mention it. “Phil tells me that keeping a journal helps, maybe that’ll help you out with it? That way, if you forget, you can just look at what you wrote!”</p><p>“Yeah...yeah that could work. I’ll, try that. So what else is in here? Other than your-” His eyes flickered to the brewing stand, and memories of hangovers and drunken rages prodded at the back of his mind. “-drugs and shit.”</p><p>“I have my library! It's all the books I’ve found! There’s the Diary of a Spy, and Big Q’s Funny Hoots, and How 2 Sex 2, and-”</p><p>“Did, did something happen to ‘How 2 Sex 1’?” </p><p>“Tommy refuses to give it to me to put in my library, because apparently it is never to be read in front of people.”</p><p>“Wow. Must be some book.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned against the wall, looking over the bookshelves, Ghostbur chattering beside him. He really would like to remember this. But if he forgot the name he was given already (he swears it's something with an F. Fuckface? Flatty Patty? Frankenstein’s monster?) then he doubts that he can retain any happy memories. </p><p>“Do you have a house Friend?”</p><p>Ok, so his name was Friend, that was easy enough to remember. Right? “Nah, I’ve just been drifting for the time. It’s not like I had a house before this anyways. At least, I don’t think I had a house?”</p><p>“I’m not sure either, but maybe sometime-”</p><p>A knock at the door interrupted whatever Ghostbur was about to say, and the other ghost excused himself to go greet whoever it was. A part of him wanted to reach out and grab Ghostbur back, but stopped himself just before he could even brush the soft yellow sleeve of his sweater. He would be fine! It was only a moment, he wouldn’t forget without him there, there was no way that would happen. </p><p>“Hey Ghostbur, I was just wondering if-”</p><p>Looking towards the doorway, his gut immediately filled with a sickening, sinking feeling. Out of all the people, this is who showed up? God must be a dick, to put him through this. </p><p>Because Tubbo, dressed in a fine suit, was standing next to Ghostbur, and some guy in a green kimono. The same Tubbo who he vividly remembered executing in front of the entire country. He didn’t even bother turning to look at the third man beside the two of them, eyes only focused on Tubbo. </p><p>It was almost like a standoff, the both of them waiting for the other to make their move. What else are you supposed to do in situations like this? </p><p>“Tubbo? You said you wanted something?” Ghostbur clearly had no idea, had no clue of the history behind them. No wonder, the memory burns, scorches at his insides and rubs his skin raw. Would it be better if he pretended that he didn’t know who Tubbo was? If he pretended that he didn’t remember anything? He was getting a headache just thinking of it. </p><p>Thankfully, he didn’t need to make a decision just yet. Kimono dude, who had previously been silent, spoke up, eyes glancing at the scene in front of him from under the brim of his hat.<br/>
“Tubbo? I think that maybe we should come back later.”</p><p>A wordless nod was the only reply given, before Tubbo and the man left, the air only seeming to return to the room once the door shut with a quiet click. </p><p>Ghostbur turned to him, the smile still on his face, pale gray tear tracks seeming to glint in the light. What was up with that anyways? </p><p>“I wonder what Phil and Tubbo wanted?”</p><p>“I, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never met Phil.” He may have never seen this, Phil, until now, but he was almost certain that he would be remembered. This wasn’t exactly a good memory anymore.  </p><p>“It’s always a lovely time when Phil stops by. Did I tell you that he’s my dad? And did I tell you about-” </p><p>“Uh huh, yeah, that’s lovely Ghostbur. I think, I think I need to get some air.”</p><p>“Oh. Okay! I’ll come with-”</p><p>“Nah, nah it’s okay. I’ll be back later, I just, need to clear my head.” He couldn’t stay in this sewer anymore. It was too, small, and dark, and just, too much. The guilt of leaving Ghostbur alone and confused left a curdled feeling in his stomach, even though he probably wouldn’t remember it after he left. </p><p>It was ironic in a way. The way that Ghostbur got to keep his happy memories, while he was burdened with the mistakes of his past. </p><p>Different sides of the same coin. </p><p>A hero to a villain. </p><p>Same shit as always. </p><p>He left the sewer without another word.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Pumpkin Pie Tastes Best Paired With Repression</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look I doubt the full ingredients for pumpkin pie are in minecraft but who is going to stop me. You can’t tell me there isn’t more food ingredients than just wheat, sugar, and egg. You just can’t. If you expect me to use minecraft logic for baking you’re a fool and a coward. Try and stop me. I dare you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He was alone again.</p><p>It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to be alone, it’s just, he preferred not to be. All by himself, left standing in the dim light of the lanterns, and completely at a loss.<br/>
Maybe he should go ask around about Fundy again? He might be done with his project, and then they could maybe go cause some chaos! Him and his son, pulling pranks like dirty crime boys again!</p><p>Pulling out his communicator from his pocket, he flicked across the cracked screen, checking if Fundy was awake. He was surprised that the device hadn’t been completely useless by now, being crushed by his corpse wasn’t ideal for the tech. But it still worked! The blood wasn’t too difficult to clean off, and the glass couldn’t hurt him much as a ghost, so there was nothing to complain about! </p><p>Fundy’s username appeared in a flash of green, signalling that he was in fact, awake, or at least still online. Perfect! Normally Ghostbur would just go and talk to him in person, but as he still didn’t know where he was, he’d have to settle for messaging him. </p><p> <strong>~Ghostbur: So how is my little champion doing?</strong></p><p>Fundy never got back to him right away, so to pass the time until then, he started another batch of invisibility potions. His son seemed to need them, considering that he stole them so often from his barrels. </p><p>Floating up to the counter, his focus half on his brewing stands, he let his mind wander on what he should build next. Maybe a farm? The country could use it, considering the only farm they owned outside of trade was only potatoes, and even that was technically Techno’s. Everyone just kinda stole from it, but he didn’t seem to mind much! Maybe he should ask Techno about farming next time he visited then, because unless all his experiences with farming happened to be terrible, even Alivebur knew next to nothing about it. </p><p>Speaking of things he knew next to nothing about, Fundy still hadn’t responded, and that was just the slightest bit...upsetting. His eyes glanced over to the communicator, screen dark with no new messages as of yet. Maybe he was still working? In that case, Ghostbur ought to bring him some food! Surely he would be hungry after working so hard, and he’d probably forget otherwise! They couldn’t have that could they? He wondered if he had eggs somewhere around, he could make Fundy his pumpkin pie! His little champion had always loved it as a kid.</p><p>Now if he only knew where he was, he could have brought him some.</p><p>He might as well make it anyways! Now if he could find some pumpkins...</p><p>Heading out from his sewer hole, he stretches, shaking out his limbs so that the melted bits reassembled quicker in the dimming sunlight. Why he decided to live in a sewer, where the entrance was exclusively going into a stream of water, was a mystery to him, but if he couldn’t remember, it wasn’t worth thinking about anyways. His gray skin always fit back together in the end, and sometimes, the burn made him feel a little more, alive. </p><p>Not that he wanted to be alive! No thank you, he was very much dandy with the idea of staying a ghost. Alivebur could rest for eternity, preferably away from Ghostbur. But this wasn’t the time for thoughts like that, he had a pie to make!</p><p>The Prime path led him to a quaint little bakery he had begun to visit whenever he was feeling a little bothered (he would never say sad, because he didn’t get sad! His memories stopped him from feeling that icky emotion). Even though he had always ended up there while it was empty, today it was alight today, oddly enough, lanterns decorating the previously dim window stills. The inside looked gutted as well for some reason, a glance in the window revealing the empty floor space.</p><p>Maybe whoever owned it would have pumpkins? They did have a lot of boxes outside on the lawn, so maybe they had some pumpkins in there? </p><p>He sat down on the lawn, beginning to look through the different boxes in search of pumpkins. Bakeries made pumpkin sweets right? The one in his memories always had the comfortable scent of bread settling around his shoulders, and the vague outline of a woman sitting next to him while they ate a loaf together. He still hadn’t seen anyone who could be her, or anyone that remembered that situation, so he assumed that his brain had made her up. Phil said that his brain did that to fix the gaps! And what better way to fill the sad bits with happy ones?</p><p>Rummaging through the boxes proved to be a good source of flour and sugar, but so far, no pumpkins. That was unfortunate, pumpkin pie couldn’t be made without them!<br/>
He moved on to one of the barrels, humming quietly to fill the silence that stretched before him. It wasn’t any particular song, just mindless notes and pauses, but the sound seemed to sap away the feeling that he was missing something.</p><p>It only took a little more rummaging until he finally found a pumpkin, the smile that never faded from his face growing wider at the sight of the fruit (pumpkins were a fruit, wasn’t that odd?) Making sure to leave something in place of the pumpkin, he reached into his pocket, setting a vial of blue into the barrel. It wasn’t nice to just take people’s things without leaving in return! And you could never have too much blue! It did keep the sadness away after all.</p><p>Nevermind the fact that it always came back.</p><p>___________________________________________________________________________</p><p>The sewer (home?)  was as quiet as it always was when he returned, busying himself with getting out the ingredients and running over the recipe in his mind. </p><p>One pumpkin. Check!</p><p>Flour, salt, shortening, and butter for the crust? Check!</p><p>Sugar? Check! </p><p>Everything else? Double check!</p><p>His hands instinctively knew how to make it, years of preparing this for birthdays, holidays, any special occasion you could think of had left him with the knowledge of how to do this in his sleep. And while he didn’t sleep much anymore, he supposed being dead was somewhat similar to that, as he didn’t remember much most days anyway. </p><p>As he folded the pie dough, his mind began to wander away from his task, instead turning to Alivebur. Why was that? He didn’t know exactly. Maybe it was the quiet, or that he was all alone again. </p><p>Alivebur. </p><p>Ghostbur.</p><p>They were two different people. He had to remember that. He would never do any of the things that Alivebur had done, because while most of it was forgotten, it still happened, and he knew it was bad. Ghostbur was friendly! He built things now! He shared his drugs and he tried to connect with his son and he didn’t hurt anyone anymore! </p><p>So why did none of it feel right?</p><p>Why did his son still hate him?</p><p>What <em>exactly</em> did Alivebur do that he didn’t remember?</p><p>His communicator’s timer dinged, announcing that the crust was properly folded, and that he should start working on the pumpkin filling. He didn’t move to turn it off, standing stock still in his little kitchen. </p><p>Hands covered in flour, he frantically dug through his pocket, pulling out his blue and hurriedly crushing it between his fingers. Transparency fading into a deep blue, he let himself breathe, despite not physically needing it. </p><p>Where was he? He had been doing something...oh! The timer was still ringing, he had been making pie! He oughta finish that shouldn’t he? His smile remained on his face the entire time, as he washed the blue off his hands, mind set once again on his task.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Who The Fuck Is This Kid And Why Do I Feel Like Calling Him Sport (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Everyone loves Ranboo! <br/>And Schlatt sets himself up for terrible consequences in the future!<br/>It’s a blast!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was good to see that Tubbo was alive, that he didn’t take away his last life. But for the love of God, why did he have to show up that soon? He still didn’t know what his name was, even after it was repeated how many times by Ghostbur, how was he expected to react to his s- to Tubbo? </p><p>Fuck, he need a drink. Could ghosts even get drunk? He wasn’t sure, ghosts weren’t supposed to melt in water but the liquid of his legs slowly fading back to normal after he left the sewer had said otherwise. The feeling still lingered, even while he was drying out. He held back a shiver, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt at comfort. </p><p>The slowly setting sun casted everything in gold, and when he glanced down, he almost expected to see his shadow stretching back to leer at him, mocking him for his mistakes. But there was none, just the ground beneath his feet. It should have been disorientating, yet all he could feel was relief.</p><p>While he was out here, he might as well look around again. It would probably help in the long run if he figured out where everything was, in case he needed to make a quick getaway. The landscape was drastically different than it used to be, buildings towering over him with none of the old familiarity. While it was doubtful that he would remember it, maybe a small part of him would. </p><p>At least the rain had stopped. That was one relief, in a sea of thousands of problems, but he would take what he could get. </p><p>Those shops were new, he noticed, seeing the marketplace in the square. And this...Mexican L’Manburg as well, as advertised by the little oak sign in front of a house on a hill. Whoever Ranboo was, he wasn’t here before either, another sign spelling out his name. Who the fuck was named Ranboo? Sounded like Ranboob. Heh. Ranboob. Fundy had apparently created a new house as well, but it seemed like it had been a while since he had been back here to occupy it, evident from the dark interior and the piling letters in the mailbox outside. <br/>Fundy...Wilbur’s, wait, Ghostbur’s son. His right hand man who betrayed him at the end of it all. He hoped that Fundy was doing okay. Wherever he went off to. </p><p>Despite his lack of direction, his eyes still were glancing around for a certain name, a flash of golden feathers, or the sound of booming Mexican music. He had already run into Tubbo, he didn’t want to run into the other like this just yet. He wouldn’t even know what to say.<br/>Caught up in his paranoia, he did end up running into someone. Not anyone he could remember though, thankfully. Instead of Tubbo, or his former...associate, it was some scruffy-looking, tall-ass kid, dressed in a suit and crown for some reason. </p><p>“Ah I’m so sorry for that, I didn’t mean to run into you, I was just looking for someone, have you seen-” A red and green eye blinked down at him, this kid was fucking tall what the absolute fuck.</p><p>“Uh, hi?”</p><p>The only response was a book being pulled out of his pocket, hurriedly flipping through the pages, muttering all the while. </p><p>“Are you like, a researcher or some shit? Cause uh, I have no idea what you’re doing bucko.”<br/>“I’m so sorry!” The book was put away, shoved back into his suit. “I was trying to figure out if I knew you and forgot, or if you were new here. I, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”</p><p>This kid was odd, but then again, he himself was a ghost, so it wasn’t fair to judge. “It’s fine man, I was going through the same thing in my head myself. Can’t remember a fucking thing either.”</p><p>That certainly got a reaction from him. “Wait really?”</p><p>“Yep. Woke up and I was dead.”</p><p>“You can’t remember anything at all?”</p><p>A pause. What should he tell this kid? He knew Ghostbur only remembered the happy shit, and other people must know that as well, so memory loss was normal. But could he really tell this kid he could only vividly remember the worst things about himself? So should he lie? It wasn’t like he could lie and say he had the same thing that Ghostbur had, they’d catch on too fast when he inevitably would forget the happy things. So that left…</p><p>“Nope. Nothing. Other than Wilbur, and that he’s my friend.” The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, poisoning his insides. He hated to do this, especially after all he did, but he’d rather avoid destruction a second time. </p><p>“Oh. Can you keep new memories?”</p><p>He only gave the kid another shake of his head. </p><p>“Man, we’re in the same boat then with that. I’m Ranboo! I moved in recently, after the reconstruction of L’Manburg. My house is over there!” He pointed to the structure, the one that had the oak sign on the wall. “I’m renting it from Phil! The guy with the big grey wings? Have you seen him around at all?”</p><p>“Maybe? I can’t really remember.” God he could already tell this was going to be problematic.</p><p>“O-Oh, I see. Your memory issues must be worse than mine then...do you have a memory book?”</p><p>“A memory, what?”</p><p>“A memory book!” The same book he pulled out earlier once again was seen, the bold words ‘DO NOT READ’ inked into the leather. “I write down important things here, in case I forget them. That way, even if I do forget, I’ll know where to look to figure out what it was!”</p><p>That...was actually a very smart idea? This kid must have had memory problems for a while if he had figured something out to remember them with. “Nah, never even thought of that in all honesty.”</p><p>The kid’s- wait, Ranboo’s seemed to light up a little, just as he raced into his house. That was, an odd goodbye, but he supposed- wait he was coming back? </p><p>Yep, he was definitely coming back.</p><p>Ok, this was happening apparently. He had another leather bound book in his hands, this one without any writing on the cover. </p><p>“Here!” It was thrust in his direction, a pen set on top.</p><p>“Uh… this for me kid?”</p><p>“Yeah! It’s a memory book for you! Think of it as your welcoming gift to L’Manburg!”<br/>Half of him wanted to correct this kid, he had been in L’manburg before (under...less than great circumstances, but still) but the other half knew that he was in too deep already. He already lied, so what was a little more lying? Just to put this kid at ease?<br/>He was so tired of lying.</p><p>“This fucking slaps, thanks kid.” His usual smirk was replaced with a smile, probably one of the most genuine smiles that anyone had seen from him in years. He himself only remembered the ones full of teeth and spite, more threatening than comforting. Though, this kid didn’t need to know that.</p><p>“Yeah no prob- wait...you don’t remember your name do you?”</p><p>“Oh, not at all, but Wilbur, Ghostbur? Gave me a new one. Think it was some sappy shit or something.”</p><p>“Well then. I hope this helps! I’m gonna go look for Tubbo. Have a nice day Sir!” With that, the weird kid was gone. </p><p>That was certainly a nicer welcoming than the previous one. </p><p>Wait.</p><p>It was nice.</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>He immediately tore his new ‘memory book’ to a clean page, writing down everything that he could remember before it left him again. Half his words were smudged by the end of it, and the page had become crumpled with his grip, but it was there. It was written down. </p><p>A wave of relief washed over him as he slumped to the grass, rereading the words he had down on the page. While it wasn’t the same as actually remembering (he’d likely forget the moment he focused on something else), it was more than he had before. </p><p>And maybe, meeting the new kid had given him a little bit more than a memory book. It gave him a little hope that maybe, he could start over. </p><p>Even if he wouldn’t remember it all at the end of the day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Return/An Absence (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So uh, how's that angst treating you?<br/>Good? Good. What about this one?<br/>(Warning, this is a sad chapter. Discusses Fundy's loss over Wilbur and his death. No major warnings other than that, but I felt like that was important to have in here)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh this certainly won’t do.”</p><p>The pie cradled in his hands still gave off residential steam from it’s time in the oven, golden brown crisping the edges and filling still piping hot. Usually, he’d wait until it cooled before he brought it anywhere (for fear of burning his hands on the tin), but as a ghost, the burns didn’t have any effect! Sure, his skin still blistered and hurt with phantom pains, but it wasn’t like they’d stay like that. He was a ghost! The pain was temporary in the long run, nevermind the fact that he didn’t know how long he’d be holding the baked confection.</p><p>Pumpkin pie aside, it had been a couple days since he had been back to clean up his son’s house. The cobwebs had already begun to return to the corners of the main room, spiders nowhere to be found, for now, but unfortunately the bat was still up in the attic when he checked.</p><p>“As much as Fundy likes animals, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t appreciate them living in his house while he’s not here.” Setting the pie down, he began the weekly ritual of cleaning up, making sure everything remained in its rightful place. He had gotten good at it! It wasn’t much of a surprise, considering how often he did it now, but it was an accomplishment nonetheless in his book.</p><p>In his haste to tidy up, he failed to notice the soft opening of the front door, mind still focused on driving out the feral bat that had somehow gotten in. It wasn’t until the sound of someone clearing their throat, that he turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of them.<br/>
“Fundy!”</p><p>There was his son! His little champion! In his silly little hat with his floppy fox ears sticking out, and that big tail that used to wag at the sight of Wilbur. Ghostbur. He meant Ghostbur.</p><p>“Did you get my messages? I hope they sent, I’m not sure what new project you were working on, but it must have kept you very busy for you to just return now! Don’t worry, I kept your house tidy for you! Well, for the most part, this bat somehow keeps getting in and I’m not entirely sure that it’s safe for you to be near. It bit me! Several times!” In a hurry to greet him, he simply shoved the bat out the window, feet still off the floor.</p><p>“Will.”</p><p>“I really ought to have lit some of the lanterns in here, it is a bit dim. But it’s still bright outside, so I suppose it isn’t necessarily too dark in here for you, with your eyesight being as good as it is.”</p><p>“Wilbur.”</p><p>“Oh! I also brought you something, for when you came back-”</p><p>“WILBUR.”</p><p>His rambling stopped, confused. Why was Fundy yelling? He had come home, shouldn’t he be happy to be here?</p><p>“...yes?” A tentative reply, Ghostbur’s fingers beginning to twist at the hem of his sweater.</p><p>“What are you doing here.”</p><p>“I, I was waiting for you to get back. You haven’t been in L’Manburg for a while, and you wouldn’t answer your messages. And it had gotten terribly dusty in here! So I began cleaning up, whenever it would get particularly bad.”</p><p>His son seemed...different. Sure, he didn’t seem to take Alivebur’s death all too well, but in all of Ghostbur’s current memory, he was pretty sure Fundy wasn’t ever this… quiet. Was quiet the word? Maybe not.</p><p>“So what’s your little pet project then? It must be a big one! I hope it's turning out well.”</p><p>There was only silence in return, and the subtle flick of fox ears on top of his head as his gaze shifted from Ghostbur to the rest of the house.</p><p>“Is it another one of your redstone contraptions? You were always so proud of those, you’d used to cobble together these cute mechanisms-”</p><p>“Wil, I’m moving out.”</p><p>The atmosphere immediately dropped, seeming to hush any noise, as a chill creeped into the room. That was odd. It was fairly warm outside today, and L’Manburg wasn’t one for sudden cold fronts.</p><p>“What, what do you mean?”</p><p>“I can’t live here anymore.” His words were crisp, devoid of emotion. Even his tail, usually twitching or moving or something- was oddly still.</p><p>“Why not? It’s your home innit?”</p><p>There was only a quiet mumble in return, words that Ghostbur’s ears couldn’t understand. “Fundy, please, use your words. I can’t understand you when you talk like that.”</p><p>“It isn’t home anymore!”</p><p>A moment passed, Ghostbur’s constant smile seeming to flicker for a moment. “That’s silly! Of course it's your home! You were born here after all.”</p><p>“It hasn’t been home for awhile Wil. And you should know that!”</p><p>“Now why don’t we just-”</p><p>“No! I know what you’re going to say. I don’t want to hear it. All you’re going to do is change the subject like you always do! You always do!”</p><p>Attempting to find words, he was left stuttering, his hands already reaching for the blue powder in his pocket. “Do you want some blue? I have some, it helps with the sadn-”</p><p>It was a matter of seconds, before Fundy had stepped forward and grabbed at his hands, pulling him down from his place near the ceiling.</p><p>“Enough. Blue. Enough! When will you listen? When will you actually face your mistakes?”</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“You can’t even look me in the eyes! You may say you don’t remember what you did, but it has to be in there somewhere, somewhere that empty head of yours.” The grip on Ghostbur’s hands tightened as he continued, beginning to grow more agitated.</p><p>“You abandoned me. In the moment I needed you most. And you pretend, like nothing is wrong. Newsflash! Everything is wrong! Tommy? Isn’t on holiday! He was exiled! From the land that he found and gave and died for! Quackity nearly died from your brother putting a goddamned pickaxe through his head! Eret was dethroned only to return less than a week later because Dre- because the man that we fought against from the start decided to be wishy washy about his decisions!” His tail began to lash, just barely noticeable by the angry brush of fur against his legs.</p><p>Fundy continued.</p><p>“Niki and I haven’t been here for weeks! Because it no longer feels safe! How does none of this get through your thick head? What do you even have to say for yourself at this point?”</p><p>His face felt damp. Why was that? He wasn’t-</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Ghostbur was crying.</p><p>The tears fell down his cheeks in fat droplets, despite the smile plastered on his face. Did his smile ever go away? Staring at his son seemed to hurt, but not like a sword, more like… what he assumed poison would feel like. Like his insides were rebelling against him, rotting him from the inside until there was nothing left of him.</p><p>Why was he crying?</p><p>He wasn’t sure.</p><p>His eyes refocused, looking back at his son. He...he was crying too, though he couldn’t tell if it was out of grief, or out of anger. His nose was beginning to run as well, and almost reflexively he reached into his pocket to pull out a tissue for him, drying the tears as best he could. They wouldn’t stop, but it was all he could do for now.</p><p>“Why… Why did you leave me? Please, Wil… you never gave me an answer. I’ve waited, so long, for something, <em>anything</em>, that could bring me an ounce of closure. But I never got it! And at this point, I’m not sure that I ever will.”</p><p>Ghostbur needed to carry more tissues with him. Fundy was very sad, and when he got sad, he cried, and then they needed more tissues. He ought to put that in his memory book actually.</p><p>“I- I…”</p><p>What was he supposed to say to him?</p><p>He wasn’t Alivebur.</p><p>He didn’t have his memories.</p><p>He didn’t know what he did wrong.</p><p>All he wanted to do was fix things.</p><p>People always seemed to forget that.</p><p>In his silence, Fundy seemed to quiet, slowly pulling away from Ghostbur. His eyes trailed off of his father, until they locked onto the pumpkin pie, still sitting on the table.</p><p>“Is that…”</p><p>Finally, a question he could answer. “Yeah, yeah! It’s the old recipe, I still remembered it, so I just thought… that you’d like it whenever you got back. It could be like the old times!”</p><p>That was not the correct answer it seemed.</p><p>It seemed, in fact, like something inside his son had snapped.</p><p>Fundy, tears still dripping down his face, began laughing. A cold, brittle laugh, so full of emotion and yet empty of it at the same time. It only seemed to grow louder, as his mouth twisted into a sneer.</p><p>“It will never, <strong>ever</strong>, be like the old times. That’s for certain. Not today, not tomorrow, not in years! You can’t, you can’t even give me a straight answer on why you left! You can’t let me grieve my dead father, because you’re fucking <em>still around</em> ! You can’t change that- or maybe you won’t, because you’re still in denial!”</p><p>Ghostbur tried to take a step towards him, but he was only met with two steps backwards, closer towards the pie. “Son-”</p><p>“No! You don’t get to call me son. You blew up my home. You made me an orphan. And the worst part is, you had won! We had gotten it all back! You could have just let it end at that! But no!” Fundy growled, continuing to step back as Ghostbur desperately tried to step closer. “You had to up and die! And you have the gall, to come back, and <em>not even own up to your mistakes</em> ! You think that memory loss and a pie can fix that?”</p><p>The pie was in his hands now.</p><p>Ghostbur hoped it wasn’t still hot.</p><p>“I wish you never came back. I wish you stayed dead. It would make it a hell of a lot easier.” A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. “But since you left me, it’s only fair that I leave you too.”</p><p>Fundy let the pie drop from his hands.</p><p>It, along with Ghostbur’s heart, smashed along the floor.</p><p>He left, slamming the door behind him, Ghostbur still standing there, staring at the wreckage.</p><p>And then, all he was left with, was an empty house and a pie.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Are, are ya'll still good? Maybe?<br/>Don't worry, next chapter will be softer. Dirty crime boys doing crimes anyone?<br/>Shout out to my beta reader for helping me with this one, I used a lot of their advice on this chapter, and I hope it turned out as good as we think it did :)<br/>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Two Ghosts Terrorize The Local Shut-In (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sooooooo how was uh, how was the other chapter y'all?<br/>Still good?<br/>Don't worry, this one is pretty chill, so you have a rest before I go and make you guys sad again :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When one typically thinks about ghosts, one would think of spectral humans, ghostly wails crying out in mourning over their usual untimely deaths. </p><p> </p><p>And if not that, then those who haunt old architecture, scaring out any and all who dare step foot on their homes, making the walls shake and the temperature as frigid as a late winter’s night. </p><p> </p><p>One would NOT think of ghosts playing keep away with some random guy’s clout goggles. </p><p> </p><p>Being a ghost, you sorta had to want to be actually corporeal in order to interact with the living plane, figured out courtesy of the disaster that Ghostbur was when he had come back from cooling off. He wasn’t even at that sewer that he called his home, instead in some weirdly empty house with a pumpkin pie smashed on the floor. While he could hold Ghostbur (he assumed it was because they were both ghosts), his friend couldn’t manage to pick up any of his items that he had on him before. The only thing he was able to pick up was that blue powder stuff, but at least when he did he seemed to calm down.</p><p> </p><p>The problem with that was, once Ghostbur calmed down, he seemed to immediately forget what he was even upset about in the first place. It wasn’t a slow process either, like his, Ghostbur’s was almost immediate after he picked up the blue. </p><p> </p><p>“If we can’t remember what it was, it probably wasn’t worth remembering in the first place!” </p><p> </p><p>Something didn’t sit right with that, but it wasn’t like he could figure out what was wrong with Loverboy if he couldn’t remember himself. He let it be for now, the wary feeling in his stomach ignored for the moment.</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t exactly sure how he and Ghostbur found this random dude, but he lived in a fucking cottagecore mushroom house on the edge of town, and that in itself was hilarious. Who makes a house out of mushrooms? You put that shit in soup! You don’t build with it! Someone comes along, takes a bite of your walls and then what? You wait for it to grow back? </p><p> </p><p>In his defense, he wasn’t planning on messing with the guy. Maybe making fun of his house for a bit, hanging out, introducing himself since he didn’t have any memories of him, and heading out on his merry way. </p><p>But when this guy walked out his front door with full on clout goggles? That was when he knew that he had to fuck with him.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Loverboy, I need you to distract that guy for me.” </p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur’s gaze, which had previously been on some wildflowers, shifted to him, confused. “Who?”</p><p> </p><p>“The one over there with the funny googles.” What other guy would it be? Himself?</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s Gogy! Why am I distracting him? Are we stealing from him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, mostly just making fun of him. What kind’ve name is Gogy anyways?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a nickname! I don’t remember how we came up with it, but everyone calls him that. Except for Dream, he’ll call him anything and Gogy will respond.” </p><p> </p><p>Ditzy ghost friend deployed, he slowly began to sneak up on this… Gogy? This guy had to have an actual fucking name, but then again, he was pretty sure that he had fought people with weirder names, according to his memories. </p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur? What are you doing here-” Gogy started, just as his glasses were plucked off the brim of his nose. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m making a run for it Loverboy, come on! We got em’! Bail out!” Cackling all the while, he grabbed Ghostbur’s arm, attempting to make their escape. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey get back here! I need those! Who even are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a good question fucker!” He had already forgotten his given name again, so it wasn’t like he could say anything different. But he was almost certain that it wasn’t the answer this schmuck was expecting, considering all the sputtering behind him. </p><p> </p><p>While they could have easily just floated out of his reach, it was much funnier to glance behind and see the huffing figure of Gogy (what could Gogy even be short for? Greggory? Gavin?) trailing behind the two. </p><p> </p><p>“Give me back my glasses!”</p><p> </p><p>“What are you going to do huh? Call the queen on me? Say some fancy posh words and scare me?” </p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur poked at him, beginning to laugh along. “I think he actually is the queen now!”</p><p> </p><p>Holy <em> fuck </em> that was even funnier. “You gonna call one of your knights your majesty? Need someone to protect you huh? What are you even queen of? The Kingdom of Twinks?” Turning around, he floated over Gogy, holding the googles just out of his reach. “Hey Ghostbur, catch!” </p><p> </p><p>Tossing them over, his spectral friend just barely managed to catch them in time. “Oh! I have them now! I don’t particularly want them, so you can have them back Friend.” </p><p> </p><p>A laugh, and they were back in Friend’s (that was his name! Hopefully he could remember it this time) hands, their victim left groaning in annoyance. He needed to think of a new name for this guy, all he had to go off of was Gogy, and while that was a weird name already, he would prefer to remember who he was. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Goggles! Over here!” Yeah that worked. It would be easy to remember anyways, he probably wore those glasses all the time, so he would just need to look for those to find him. But at the moment, he still had them, and he was going to hold that over his head for at least a little while longer.</p><p> </p><p>Or at least, that’s what he thought, considering Goggle’s next choice of words. “Baddddddddddd!!!” </p><p> </p><p>A puff of smoke erupted between the three of them, a short looking...demon appearing in the middle (Nether creature? Man?) with a tray of muffins in his hands. Was he wearing an apron with… a diamond block face on it? Was that… handmade? “Really George? I was just about to put these in the oven, now I’m halfway across the town with unbaked muffins!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur and this guy are making fun of me! What was I supposed to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Glaring over at the two of them, a shiver ran down his back as he noticed this… Bad’s, face shifted into something much more serious. Instinctively, Friend’s sheep ears stuck down against his head, clout goggles hidden behind his back as he attempted to act innocent. “Who, us?”</p><p> </p><p>“George, hold my muffins. You two have five seconds to give George his glasses back.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wha-”</p><p> </p><p>“One.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t we talk about this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Two.” This guy looked ready to jump them holy hell-</p><p> </p><p>“Goggles, no hard feelings right?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got two seconds left, you really wanna be doing this you muffinhead?” </p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy, I think this is where we make our escape.” He grabbed Ghostbur’s hand, and began sprinting off again, the other ghost trailing behind him happily.</p><p> </p><p>“Five!”</p><p> </p><p>“I might be dead but I’m not dying a second time, no fucking thank you man!” How was this guy so fast? He had already felt the hand reaching out at his sweater multiple times since he had started running, clout goggles in one hand, and Ghostbur’s in the other. </p><p> </p><p>“You get back here you little muffins! You need to give George’s glasses back and apologize! And language!”</p><p> </p><p>The both of them were taken down with a full on tackle by the fucker, tumbling to the ground in a pile. He was just glad that he had bothered to let go of the clout goggles beforehand, because otherwise they would have surely broken under the combined weight of three full grown men (was Bad even a human?). “If you wanted to pin me down on the floor you could have just asked.”</p><p> </p><p> When all else fails, flirt out of panic.</p><p> </p><p>“You- You little muffinhead! That’s not what this is! You need to apologize to George! Ghostbur, I don’t know how much you had to do with this, but you probably also need to apologize for letting your-”</p><p> </p><p>There was a pause, as Bad got a closer look at him, confused. “Wait...Schlatt?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who the hell is Schlatt?” Well that was a new name. Oddly familiar, but not enough that he could actually recognize it. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>“Language! And, what do you mean? That’s, that’s your name.” </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, I don’t think so. My name’s…” Snapping his fingers, he glanced over to Ghostbur. “Loverboy what did you call me again?”</p><p> </p><p>A smile was given in return from Ghostbur, still flopped on top of him from along with Bad. “Friend! Its the name I gave you in the forest!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah! That’s it. My name’s Friend. Or at least, that’s what I’m called. I don’t know who this Schlatt fuck is.” </p><p> </p><p>“I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Why, are the ghosts, almost as fast as you Bad?” His sentence was interrupted by Goggles, huffling from exertion. The guy probably ran here after the fucking speed demon that was Bad, and to make it funnier, he was still holding the tray of muffin batter he had been handed before they had ran off. How did none of it spill? “God, you guys, ran all the way to, Targay and I don’t, have the lungs for this!”</p><p>Bad turned towards Goggles again, temporarily distracted. “Sorry! I had to keep up with them somehow! Now, anyways, hand over the glasses… Friend. And Ghostbur.”</p><p> </p><p>Begrudgingly, as Ghostbur was laughing into his side, he reached over to the spot on the grass where the glasses had fallen. Handing them up to Bad, the nether demon promptly gave them back to Goggles. </p><p> </p><p>“And what do you say to George?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I really-” He was met with a stern look of disapproval, immediately causing him to amend his statement. “Ok, fine, sorry for messing with your twink glasses.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not what I was hoping for, but I’ll accept it. Now if you’ll excuse me-” The demon stood up, brushing off his apron before taking back the tray. “-I have to get back to my baking. I’ll… talk with you later, Friend. It was nice seeing you again, I much prefer these circumstances to your… less pleasant ones.”</p><p> </p><p>Before he could ask what he meant, Bad disappeared in another puff of smoke, muffin tray and all, as if he had never been there in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>“So Goggles, what’s up with the gay mushroom house?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My beta reader had a field day with this one, mostly making fun of George XD so hope you all liked it!</p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Naptime? Naptime. (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Another short filler today! I was feeling particularly self-indulgent when I wrote this, so my beta reader had an absolute field day roasting how sentimental I was :p. So, no worries on anything here, just some toothrotting fluff for the moment. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were some things that Ghostbur just couldn’t understand about Friend.</p><p> </p><p>The first, was that he always seemed to carry something heavy, deep within him. It wouldn’t always show, when he would laugh, or when the two of them would go cause trouble, hand in hand and ghostly forms flickering in and out of the streets as they figured out what was on the day’s agenda.  But it was there, in the moments between, where he seemed so… distraught. With himself? With someone else? Ghostbur didn’t know, but whenever that happened, he simply wrapped his arms around his Friend and began rambling about whatever came off the top of his head. (He would have handed him some blue, but Friend always refused it. Said that his sweater was blue enough already.)</p><p> </p><p>Another thing he didn’t understand was why it felt like he knew him from before. Before he was Ghostbur, but most of his old memories as Alivebur still were missing, and he was pretty content to let them stay that way.</p><p> </p><p>If he couldn’t remember, then it probably wasn't anything worth remembering.</p><p> </p><p>Even so, a part of him was still curious over who Friend was before his death. He must have been important somehow, for this to be bothering him so much. He did say that he’s been here for a while, so Alivebur must have had some memories of him, right? And yet, even when he looked back at his memory book to what he remembered, Friend wasn’t mentioned a single time in it. </p><p> </p><p>Was it because he didn’t have any good memories of Alive-Friend?</p><p> </p><p>That couldn’t be possible, there had to have been something there. Friend was too nice! And he seemed to recognize him, so why couldn’t Ghostbur do the same?</p><p> </p><p>They must have been very old memories. That had to be it. He couldn’t remember everything that happened in his life, that was simply impossible! No one could do that, so he must’ve had very old memories of Friend that he had forgotten. There wasn’t any other explanation. </p><p> </p><p>Moving on from his confusing thoughts, he turned to look at Friend, who had been dozing off beside him, the two floating in midair like little bats on string, resting for the moment. They had just come back from another one of their ventures, and while they didn’t always need to sleep, it was tiring at times to keep one’s form physical. </p><p> </p><p>A gentle tug pulled Friend closer to him, allowing him to rest his head on where his heart should be. The only reaction from the other was a quiet bleat, before he fell silent again, still asleep. It had been a while since he had rested so domestically with someone. Ghostbur wasn’t certain, but he likely had done something similar with Sally, when she was still around. And before her, he would pile together with his brothers, in front of the fire whenever it got too cold in their little Artic home. </p><p> </p><p>Sally… he wondered where she was now.</p><p> </p><p>His… wife? His... lover? He had long since forgotten what Sally was to him, at least as he was but she had always been, his Sally! He loved her, and he was pretty sure that she loved him. They raised Fundy during his smaller years, and then-</p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t remember. </p><p> </p><p>It was something or another, wasn’t it always? Desperately trying to refocus, he looked up at Friend, watching the lamp light flicker in the shine of his sheep horns. They were very nice, and so were his ears, soft as the blue sweater he wore. He instantly felt better. </p><p> </p><p>Friend was kinda like his own sort of blue now, at least that’s what it seemed to be. Not that Ghostbur was angry about it! It was quite the opposite actually. He had never gotten used to being alone in the little sewer home, and having someone else to talk to (even if he was always flicking through his book to remember their previous conversations) was refreshing to say the least. </p><p> </p><p>Though, for some reason, Friend didn’t seem to like the water? It was odd, the feeling wasn’t  especially bad, just a few tingles for the short amount of time it took to get in and out. He always insisted on simply phasing through the ground into their (their?) little tuckaway home, even if it once ended with him going too far down and missing it completely. It took a while to recover from their laughter after that, considering that he had phased so far down that he went through lava and didn’t even notice. </p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur debated whether or not he should add a second entrance, so that Friend didn’t need to bother worrying over missing the house completely. It wouldn’t be especially hard, considering that he simply needed to set up a ladder and reinforce the new way in. He could probably work on that now!</p><p>A little snuffle from Friend was all the warning before an arm was tucked around Ghostbur’s back, tucking him closer. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he’d work on that tomorrow. </p><p> </p><p>He let his mind drift away from him, as the two spectres swayed in the air, hung by an invisible force. Sleep came easily to him, and he let himself slip into unconsciousness, Friend by his side. </p><p> </p><p>______________________________________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>The ghost woke up to singing, which, while unusual, wasn’t unpleasant. He let out a quiet huff of air in appreciation of the low timbre echoing around the room, not wanting to disturb Friend.</p><p> </p><p>It seemed to be some form of a lullaby, something to do with bees? Bees, bees and honey and sweet things of the like. It was lovely, his mind drifting to Tubbo, and how much he loved bees. Tubbo would probably like this song, considering it featured his favorite animal. His smile softened around the edges at the thought, of all his family together, and Friend singing this song to him. </p><p> </p><p>Apparently, even that was noticeable enough that he stopped singing. Ghostbur would frown at that if he could, instead settling for opening his eyes. “Why’d you stop?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Loverboy, sorry that I woke you up.” He sounded so much sadder than usual, much quieter too. But he had been singing! Singing was supposed to make you feel happier, wasn’t it? That’s what it always did for him at least. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would you be sorry silly? I liked listening to you sing.”</p><p> </p><p>“I find that hard to believe Ghostie boy. It’s not exactly the smoothest voice to listen to. Too many cigarettes during my life for that.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s different. Less like a river and more like a tree.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”  </p><p> </p><p>“Like, one of those big dark oak ones. They’re very lovely, and they’re always so steady in where they are, even if the branches move in the wind. You’re like that!” </p><p> </p><p>A quizzical look passed over Friend’s face, but luckily, he was met with a smile, and a ruffling of his hair. “Whatever you say, don’t get all sappy on me now. Can’t have the two of us crying this early in the morning.” To Ghostbur’s delight, he picked up humming this time, the same song as before. </p><p> </p><p>He let a moment pass by, before smirking up at Friend. </p><p> </p><p>“So, what song is that by the way?”</p><p> </p><p>“Now what did I say about the sappy shit?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So how was it? I was aiming for cozy, but I'd also settle for warm and comfortable. Sometimes, you just gotta make yourself into a human-hammock, and I respect that</p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. That Doesn't Sound Right, But I Don't Know Enough About Ghosts To Dispute It (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ah yes, the foreshadowing begins! With a lovely return of Ranboo, the newest addition to the Dirty Crime BoysTM. I swear plot exists, don't worry about ittttttt</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In all honesty, the only benefit of living in the sewer, was that Ghostbur was normally there to keep him company. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The rest of it, sucked ass.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The darkness was one thing. He had to light all the lanterns just to even begin to chase the creepy shadows from the corners of the rooms. It being built underground didn't help matters, even if the waterway did brighten the sewerway. The entire vibe was creepy without Ghostbur even with all the lanterns lit up, sappy as it sounded, it was like his little patch of sunshine was gone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another problem with living in the sewer was the smell. He didn't know if Ghostbur no longer had the ability to smell, or if his own hybrid ancestry just made his own sense of smell really strong, but the place smelled goddamned awful. It was full of piss! What else would you expect in a sewer?!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And don't even get him started on the wa-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Needless to say, it sucked. The crane above it was lovely, and it made it easier to find home when he was out wandering, but to be frank, he would have preferred if they lived in an actual house. Or anything other than a sewer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So here he was, wandering around the streets of the Greater Dream SMP. Might as well, it was much better than being cramped up, and it was much nicer outside anyways. He never used to be the kind of fuck that would go outside just for the fresh air, but when you’re dead, you got a lot of time on your hands that you didn’t have before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He had just started to head back to L’Manburg, right as he heard someone behind him, ears perking up in anticipation. Was it Quackity? Was it Tubbo? Was it someone else? Was it-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A gentle tap on his shoulder let him know that it wasn’t any of them. No one who had a grudge on him would be that careful. He un-tensed as he turned around, faced with a kid who was practically towering over him. Jesus this kid was tall, what the hell did he eat?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey! It’s me, Ranboo again. Sorry, it’s just, you looked… sad? I’m, I’m not very sure but you had this look on your face and I just-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As this kid was rambling, Friend pulled out his memory book, trying to see if he knew him. There had to be something… oh! He had helped this kid out with some stuff earlier in the week, as thanks for giving him the memory book. Sweet. “What do you need Ramble?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, not the oddest name I’ve received, but definitely, um, new. I was just pointing out that you, uh, seemed sad? I wasn’t watching you, in, in case you were wondering, I was just, walking by-”</p>
<p>God this kid didn’t know how to talk to people. That was fine, but he didn’t know how Ramble didn’t get a headache from talking himself in circles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I get what you mean. I think my face is just sorta stuck this way, resting bitchface as I usually call it. I was just heading back to my- I mean Ghostbur’s place. I’d invite you in, that’s a fucking thing that people do right? But I’m not exactly sure how you feel about the entrance, you do gotta go through, y’know, water. Since you can’t phase through the ground.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah I, I don’t like water. I can actually burn myself in it, if I’m not wearing any sort of armor that is. Wait, did you say phase… through the ground?” The kid looked at him, confusion written all over his face. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not feeling the need to explain, Friend simply turned himself intangible and began sinking into the soil, shivering at the sensation of the not-feeling that followed. “Yeah. Phasing. Or that’s what I call this shit at least. There’s probably a better word, but I don’t care to ask around.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s so cool! It’s like my teleporting - though, you can actually control yours…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not exactly. Where is it…” He dug around in his book, looking through the memories as if he had forgotten. He did have to keep up appearances for fucks sake, even if it killed him a second time to lie to this poor kid. “I lose control over it when I get bursts of strong emotions. Like if I’m really fucking sad, I might not be able to pick stuff up. Loverboy gets like that sometimes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ramble seemed a little put out by that, but he still was hanging around, so he might as well let him hang around longer. “Hey kid, you wanna figure out what other shit I can do? I feel like there’s more ghost fuckery I can get up to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And there was that lopsided smile! Look at that, he didn’t fuck up something for once. The day was already off to a good fucking start. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So uh, apparently this was new.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ramble and him had been fucking around for a bit, trying to figure out what else he could do with his freaky ghost powers. They’d tried a lot of crap, mostly shit you saw in stereotypical horror movies. Attempting to possess people (that was a bust), turning invisible (also a fucking letdown), manipulating people’s dreams (that was a “no” too)… he couldn’t even do the spooky echoing that Ghostbur did with his voice! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But something that apparently he <strong> could </strong> do, was move shit around with his fucking mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Which was definitely <strong> not </strong> something that he could do before. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The funniest thing about it, was that it had been a complete accident! A screwup! He and Ramble had been walking along the Prime Path (seriously, he could have sworn there was something behind why it was called that) and Ramble had nearly dropped his memory book off the side into the water. The two of them had panicked like dipshits trying to catch it, and just as it was about to fall into the water, Friend blindly reached out for it and watched it suddenly stop falling. In the middle of all this freaking-out, there was the book, floating in mid-fucking-air above the water!</p>
<p>Which, in all honesty? Was some of the coolest shit that had ever happened. It was a little wobbly rising back up to the both of them, but thankfully (even though Friend was starting to feel a little woozy), he was able to get the book safely back into Ramble’s hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then he collapsed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“H-Huh? Wait, are you okay? You just levitated my book! Did you know you could do that? Does that hurt you? Oh god did I cause you to hurt yourself? I’m so sorry!” The kid was standing over him, fretting like he had died or something. Or well, died a second time. Was the world spinning faster than normal? It seemed to be, everything was sorta shaking like a goddamned maraca.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am… perfectly fine. Just dandy. Give me, ah, give me two seconds though, you kinda have two heads at the moment.” Could he even feel sick as a ghost? Because it felt like he was about to hurl his guts directly on the Prime Path.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re okay? Can I get you anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid I’m fine, it’s not like I can die a second time! Is your book okay? None of the pages fucked up?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sudden flipping of pages confirmed that the journal was indeed still in one piece, allowing both of them to breathe a sigh of relief. “Yeah, it’s all here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. I think that I’m good now. Help me up would ya?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A hand reached out to grab his, and pulled him up off the wood of the path. Brushing off his sweater, he turned his gaze to Ramble, smiling. “I suppose that’s new?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was met with a smile in return, the kid beginning to rock on his heels excitedly, now that it seemed like neither of their belongings were in any danger. “That’s most definitely new! My memory book doesn’t say anything about you levitating things! Though, it must take a lot out of you, based on you previously being, well, on the floor.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah it’s no biggie. Probably just shocked me. I wonder what other shit I can move with my brain?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Try my feather pen, it’s lighter than my book, so it should be easier.” Ramble held it flat on his palm, his claws no longer wrapped around the quill. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Concentrating deeply, he willed the feather to rest in the air a couple inches above the kid’s palm. It sputtered for a second (he could feel himself weakening, but thankfully less than before) before floating just where he wanted it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This discovery had led them to cause mass havoc in the end, of course. Even if they couldn’t turn invisible on their own, Ghostbur always had ingredients for invisibility potions, so the obvious thing to do now was fuck with everyone else, invisibly, and by using whatever these freaky ghostpowers were called. Telepathy? Telegraph? Something like that. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the end of it, he was exhausted, and he had probably been declared a mortal enemy of Goggles and that other guy, Sappy, who seemed to like to set fire to everything he touched. But it had been worth it to hear that kid laughing at the shit they pulled, he seemed like he got lonely sometimes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Glatt knew how that felt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Too tired to deal with phasing through to the sewers, he simply laid down on the ground outside, sighing quietly as he waited for Ghostbur to get home. He would’ve floated, but even that was too much effort. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His ears twitched every so often, preoccupied with the whistle of the wind and the quiet rustling of the grass under his head. It was peaceful, enough so that he actually sat up, scribbling the experience into his book. The book was starting to fill up now, pages upon pages of anything that he knew he wouldn’t be able to remember. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was nice, having something to look back on that didn’t leave a nasty taste in his mouth. Maybe this time, he’d be able to make things better. Maybe.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, he could be faced with every aspect of his past all at once. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of a bleat, achingly familiar, rang through his ears, and he instinctively turned towards the source, arms wrapped around himself comfortingly in place of where someone else’s had once been. It could have been just another sheep, but that would be too much of a coincidence for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was her. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The peaceful moment broken, he panicked, knowing that she’d see him if he hung outside any longer. As he quickly made his way inside, the only thing he left behind was the indent in the grass; the only indication that he was ever there at all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who is this mysterious 'she'? What is her connection? What's up with Friend cutting himself off with his thoughts about wa-</p>
<p>Also, more plot is approaching I swear, my beta reader just has to wring it out of me XD They make fun of me for taking so long but I can't help it, slow buildups are funnnnnn</p>
<p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Flower Crowns and Fragile Hearts (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did someone say cute flower crowns scene??? No?? Well you're getting one anyways, no one can stop me. Its a bit of a shift later in the chapter, but no major warnings I would think. Glatt/Friend gets a tad freaked out over his bad memories, but it's not especially descriptive. Little bit of backstory for Ghostbur and sbi, so, uh, have fun with that :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friend was eating grass. </p><p> </p><p>And that in <em> itself </em> was funny. </p><p> </p><p>The funnier thing about it, is that <em> he didn’t even realize that he was doing it. </em></p><p> </p><p>The two of them were out in a field close to L'Manburg, Friend complaining about feeling cramped in their little home. He had said something about it feeling familiar in a bad way, and that was already enough for the two of them to be off, afternoon sun shining above their heads. </p><p> </p><p>Their wandering spirits had somehow ended up in this quaint little area, tucked away into the curve of a hill, bees lazily drifting above their heads, fat little bodies casting shadows from the sky. Ghostbur had immediately begun cooing over the insects, tugging Friend along with him to gaze upon the diligent creatures. </p><p> </p><p>Friend had simply followed along, a gentle smile growing on his face at the sight. It wasn’t long before Ghostbur had the two of them sitting down in the meadow side-by-side, braiding flowers together to form delicate crowns. </p><p> </p><p>While Ghostbur still remembered how to do so, Friend seemed to be having trouble, frustrated as the petals fell from his hands. He was being too rough with them, pulling and pushing instead of entwining them carefully like he was supposed to. </p><p> </p><p>Seemingly giving up after a while, even with gentle instruction on how to properly do it, Ghostbur decided that the other needed a break. He let Friend’s head rest on his leg, who in turn, began watching Ghostbur weave, the buzzing of the bees accompanying them, a symphony of music without any words.</p><p> </p><p>As Ghostbur continued, ring of daisies in his hands, he glanced over to Friend again, eyes catching on the horns framing his face. He was a sheep right? What was the male version of a sheep? A ram? </p><p> </p><p>So logically… he would eat grass. Right?</p><p> </p><p>Nonchalantly, his right hand grabbed a handful of grass, and let it fall onto Friend’s face. </p><p>What he did NOT expect, was Friend to be zoned out enough that he just opened his mouth and ate the grass. Did not even blink. </p><p> </p><p>He tried it again.</p><p> </p><p>Friend ate the grass. </p><p> </p><p>Struggling to contain his laughter, he continued this up until the flower crown was finished, letting the daisies settle carefully over Friend’s head. He finally burst out in giggles the moment that Friend attempted to eat the daisies, shocking him into realizing what he was doing. </p><p>“Ah fuck you! Making me eat grass and shit!” An elbow was jabbed into his side as Friend got up, the daisy crown hanging lopsided on his head still. “I oughta feed you some dirt motherfucker, see how you like it.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t complain before! You kept eating it!” His laughter only grew at how red the other man had gotten, attempting to push him back into the ground, not expecting Ghostbur to dodge. “And what d’ya mean by eating dirt? That doesn’t taste nearly as good as sand!”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you’d be the guy to eat sand, that’s the kind of bitch that you are. Over here eating sand like it’s normal or something.” Friend’s head knocked against his, smelling of sunshine and pollen. </p><p> </p><p>“Sand tastes good!”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, if you like eating fucking rocks and shit. Y’know I’m surprised you haven’t gone to the hospital for that already, with all the sand in your system.” Friend set his head on Ghostbur’s shoulder this time, grabbing some of the cornflowers that they had gathered earlier. “How the fuck did you even make this thing anyways? Everything here is so goddamn fragile.”</p><p> </p><p>“Here, let me show you again.”</p><p> </p><p>By the end, Friend was proudly holding his own flower crown in his hands, joking with Ghostbur about how he was a natural. Some of the flowers were missing their petals, and the braiding was staying together out of pure spite and little else, but it was beautiful all the same. </p><p> </p><p>“Here, you take this one. Since you gave me yours, it’s only fair that you have to take my crap too.” The crown was gently placed among Ghostbur’s curls, as if he would shatter had it been set down with any more force. Or maybe he was just worried about breaking it, flowers were notoriously fragile after all. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you friend, I feel like a very pretty princess. Wait, we’re both princesses now! Both of us have crowns!” Eyes lighting up at the thought, he turned to Friend, poking his shoulder in excitement.</p><p> </p><p>“Out of the two of us, I’m the hotter princess then.”</p><p> </p><p>Both of them erupted in laughter, their corporal forms flickering in and out of focus from their mirth, crowns remaining on their heads despite this. It was intoxicating, being able to laugh like this with someone again; just him and Friend, sitting in this moment together. </p><p> </p><p>After a while, the silence had settled around them again, a gentle blanket over their minds. Ghostbur curled into Friend as his hands fumbled with another flower crown, backs laying against the warm dirt. They had decided to bring back some of the flowers to L’Manburg - bracelets and necklaces and crowns all crafted out of the brightly colored meadow flowers. </p><p> </p><p>While Friend had only really wanted to give a crown to George and Ranboo (he had said something about people not accepting anything from him, but it was already fading from Ghostbur’s memory), Ghostbur had made it his personal goal to find as many people to hand out flowers to, tugging Friend along all the while. He didn’t seem to mind for the most part, gently floating above him, hands linked so that neither of them would get lost. </p><p> </p><p>A ring of alliums for Ranboo, poppies for Sapnap, orchids for George, dandelions for Phil, tulips for Tommy and Tubbo...who was he forgetting?</p><p> </p><p>Oh! Sunflowers for Quackity! Big Q! He was somewhere over in Mexican L’Manburg, or wait, didn’t they rename it? He was certainly close enough, and wouldn’t you know it, him and Friend were already headed that way! </p><p> </p><p>He tugged Friend along behind him as his feet carried him towards Quackity’s house, humming an upbeat tune as they grew closer. Quackity loved sunflowers! They were nice and yellow, just like his wings! </p><p> </p><p>Hand raised to knock, Friend suddenly sat up, still floating midair as his eyes glanced over a sign, the text reading “Big Q’s House,” his face immediately becoming panicked. “Uh, Loverboy, whatcha, whatcha doing…?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna give Big Q a flower crown? What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur wait-”</p><p> </p><p>The door opened anyways, Ghostbur’s hand falling to his side as he stared at Quackity. “Hi Big Q!”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Ghostbur, what are you-” </p><p> </p><p>Friend’s hand tightened around his as Quackity spoke. Both ghosts watched the other man’s face twist in disgust, taking in every detail in a repulsed glance before slamming the door shut, mumbling something along the lines of “I’m not in the mood for this crap.” </p><p> </p><p>Well! That was new!</p><p> </p><p>Friend seemed to find this interaction much less interesting than he did, considering the way the other had gone pale. Well, paler than usual - they were ghosts after all. “Ghostbur, can we just leave it at his door? Please?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh no. Friend saying “please” was enough of a bad sign, he wasn’t exactly known for his manners, but not one single swear? Ghostbur could tell that something was wrong, and it churned his stomach. Friend’s eyes looked almost listless now, glazed over in a memory.</p><p> </p><p>Gently setting the crown of sunflowers down on the ledge of Quackity’s house, he pulled Friend away, back towards their home. The other spectral was so quiet now, worryingly so, as they went. The only reminder that he still was there was his hand in Ghostbur’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend? We’re not by Big Q’s house anymore.” </p><p> </p><p>No response. </p><p> </p><p>“I put the flowers by his door, just like you said. I’m sure that he’ll like them, even if he slammed the door on us. I wonder what that was about anyway? Maybe he’s busy?”</p><p> </p><p>A weight settled on his shoulder, Friend burying his face into the wool of the yellow sweater. It was unnerving in a way, seeing him so quiet; nothing like the wild temperament that Ghostbur had grown accustomed to. </p><p> </p><p>“...Friend?”</p><p> </p><p>Flowers forgotten, he wrapped his arms around Friend, his frantic hands pulling him closer. They became so tangled, Friend’s shaking body creating shivers despite the absence of a cold breeze, that eventually Ghostbur didn’t know where Friend ended and he began. Not that it mattered to him. He willfully cast aside the strong desire to reach into his pocket and use the Blue on him and Friend, knowing how much it made him uncomfortable. Sometimes a little sadness, he thought, was maybe necessary. </p><p> </p><p>Had it been any other circumstance, Ghostbur would have joked with him about going soft (Friend was always complaining about that, though Ghostbur was sure he’d always been this way). It was clear, however, that now was not the time, as Friend’s barely corporeal form flickered.</p><p> </p><p> Would it help if they went home? But Friend didn’t like small spaces; it might make things worse if he felt trapped. What about by the lake? No, he didn’t like water either, so that wouldn’t work. What about-</p><p> </p><p>Maybe. Maybe that room. </p><p> </p><p>Quickly scanning around L’Manburg, his feet instinctively guided him to a small cleft in the cliff, tucked away behind the small podium set up for the president - er, Tubbo - and a field of wooden chairs. Ghostbur had been the president once, hadn’t he? Those were good times. He clung to the warmth of the memory like a vagabond warming his hands with a fire as the seemingly innocent stone face loomed over him. Hands reaching around, he pulled a lever, hidden in the dip of the stone, and watched as redstone uncovered the small, cluttered room. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t perfect, but it was getting dark out already, enough that the glow of the hanging lanterns would soon become noticeable. The night life in L’Manburg was minimal at most, so the two of them would be fine - for now. </p><p> </p><p>As the room opened, finally clicking fully into place, Ghostbur stepped inside, bringing Friend with him. Here, they could look off at the lanterns, with nothing and nobody to make Friend feel any more sad than he already was. Ghostbur would be fine. He had his blue after all. Friend still clinging tightly to his sweater, Ghostbur took a look around the empty room.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t know what happened to the body. </p><p> </p><p>His body. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t bother to ask. He didn’t want to know. </p><p> </p><p>The room had long since been changed from how it was in his - Wilbur’s - final memories, Ghostbur having done his best to turn it into a hideaway. The signs were still hung solemnly on the walls, but now they had been covered over with cloth, ghosts of a memory that, like a stain, haunted L’Manburg despite Ghostbur’s attempts to scrub it out. Ghosts, huh. Maybe Ghostbur and those signs had something good in common. He’d have to tell Fundy that one. After sucking in a cold breath and grounding himself again, he spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Friend… you should see the lanterns.” His voice was soft, trying to quell the fears that resided within his Friend, desperately hoping that this would get some reaction. Any reaction was good at this point. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, there was a grumble. If any coherent words had come out, they had gotten lost between his shoulder and Friend’s mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“They’re lit right now, they’re very pretty. I know you don’t like Blue, so I figured this might work. Just… for a moment?”</p><p> </p><p>An ear flicked before Friend turned to look up at him, head still halfway buried in his sweater sleeve. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, he simply turned his gaze out to the rest of L’Manburg, silent. </p><p> </p><p>His mind drifted in that silence, staring ahead at the picturesque view of L’Manburg. There was a slight chill in the air, enough that he scooted closer to Friend, the two of them pressed together at the hip. Friend still seemed sad though, even if he didn’t move away. Maybe he should-</p><p> </p><p>Oh! Look at that! The lanterns were lit up. That was so charming! Was Friend seeing this? He could have swore there was something that he was forgetting, but the flickers of the light were too enchanting to not pay attention to. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend, look! Someone remembered to light the lanterns today! Aren’t they beautiful?” Smile just as bright, he knocked heads with Friend, pleased when there was a gentle nudge back. A sheep thing, he presumed, one he had begun to grow accustomed to whenever Friend was in a particularly good - or in this case, quiet - of a mood. “You know, Phil taught me how to make them! It was a long time ago, when I was just a little tyke, but I still remember how to set them up.”</p><p> </p><p>A low hum was the answer he received, but it was enough! At least Friend was listening!</p><p> </p><p>“We would hang them from the ceiling beams back home, during parties or on days where we didn’t get much sun. I think Phil still has the first one I made! It was a very silly design I had, I think it almost caught on fire when we tried to light it.”</p><p> </p><p>Friend’s ear twitched once, then twice, as he continued to stare at the floating lights. Ghostbur had hoped for a small chuckle, but he knew he’d get one eventually! If he just kept telling his funny little stories, that was.</p><p> </p><p>“Techno’s were always very intricate. I’m almost sure that he used gold leaf on his lantern one year, when he and Tommy were competing to see who could make a better one. Somehow I ended up as the judge that year, maybe Tommy’s habit of screaming at all hours of the day had finally worn Phil down too much. Tommy was furious at Techno, absolutely fuming. Said that it was cheating, because they had agreed to only use the given materials, not ones they found themselves. Nevermind the fact that they certainly weren't given emeralds to use on their lanterns, yet they ended up on Tommy’s lantern anyway.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur glanced over at Friend again, quietly noting how he had seemed to become less tense than he was before. His hand gently reached over to where he kept his memory book, writing down this memory for the other ghost as he continued to speak. “It was absurd, how the both of them were too stubborn to admit that they both were cheating. Phil had to come in and sort them out, they were so worked up.”</p><p> </p><p>“ ...Who ended up winning?” Friend’s voice came out raw, but it was a start! Any progress was good progress!</p><p> </p><p>“It ended in a tie. I felt too guilty to choose between them, especially with how hard each of them worked on it. They weren’t very happy to hear that though!” </p><p> </p><p>He was met with a snort, Friend glancing over at him in amusement. Eyes flickering downwards to where Ghostbur was writing, he absolutely sped through it, as if the words on the page held the secrets of the universe. </p><p> </p><p>“We should make lanterns sometime. It would be fun! We can hang them up outside the crane, that way we can see them whenever we go out!” He began to sketch a lantern down the margins of Friend’s memory book, along with a little image of the two of them, before handing it back. </p><p> </p><p>“I doubt mine would be as good as yours.” Glancing upward, Friend let out a little laugh. “Your crown’s already kinda fucked up, your Majesty.”</p><p> </p><p>So it was! He had nearly forgotten about it, the ring of cornflowers on his head seeming as though it were about to fall apart at any given moment. “That’s alright! As long as it doesn’t start on fire, we should be fine. Oh, I should press these flowers when we go home! I think they’d be lovely in the library.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ay, look at you, pressing flowers and shit. Gonna get into scrapbooking next?” The tiniest of smiles appeared on Friend’s face, just for a moment, and had Ghostbur blinked, he was sure that he would have missed it.  </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, maybe, maybe not. I’ll bring you along with me if I do.” Ghostbur held back a smirk, a feeling of relief and satisfaction rising at the sight of Friend finally seeming happier. After all, happy was a much better emotion! Much brighter, at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy don’t you fucking dare-”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe I’ll take up calligraphy as well! I’m sure that you’d love learning from Sam, I hear he has very nice handwriting.” </p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Sam again?” To his right, he could hear the turning of pages, probably Friend scouting out his memory book again. “Is that the fucking creeper dude who uses a trident to get everywhere like some kind of, pretentious rich prick?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, he is part creeper, and I think he’s got a trident just like Techno.” Ghostbur paused. “Wait, what d'you mean pretentious, <em> we </em> float everywhere! How could you call him pretentious when we don’t even use our legs??”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’ll just be walking around, la-dee-da-ing and shit, and then BAM! This fucking rando is just in front of you from fuck-knows-where to say hello before disappearing again! I may not walk all the time, but I at least don’t scare the shit out of people like that. And we’re ghosts! Who’s gonna expect us to walk places?” </p><p>Actually, Friend regularly attempted to scare him by using that same idea, even if it never worked. Ghostbur could always hear him snickering, it wasn’t like he was being particularly sneaky with it! He didn’t bring this up though, of course; he merely shook his head amusedly. </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno Friend, I still think that you’d enjoy the lessons. Who knows? Maybe that’ll become your new passion!” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t fucking count on it Loverboy.”</p><p> </p><p>Giggling, he moved to get up. It was getting late, and they really ought to be getting home before someone saw them. Before he was able to, though, a hand reached out, loosely holding onto his sweater sleeve. Friend was on the other end, face tilted away, attempting to hide the rosy tinge of embarrassment on his cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes Friend...?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just sit with me for a little longer shithead. I’m still looking at the lanterns, and if you go home, then I gotta fucking get up.” It was an excuse, they both knew it, but it wasn’t like either of them minded.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright. Just for a little longer.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So how we feeling?? Heads up for the next chapter, we might run into a certain exiled teenager soon :p so be on the look out for that. Maybe even someone else as well?</p><p> Also, apperantly according to my beta reader, I need some semblance of an upload schedule, so I'm gonna say Wednesdays. We're gonna aim for that at least, its still a little tentative, so no promises.</p><p>Speaking of my beta reader, shout out to them! Helped me a lot on this chapter, and they're very amazing for sorting through my mess. </p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Please Refrain From Fist Fighting God (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyo! Just wanted to say, there's an itsy bitsy warning for this chapter. Mainly asshole Dream, as this does center around the area of Tommy's exile a bit. So, descriptions of explosions, manipulative Dream, that sort of stuff. Other than that, i got nothing else to say :p.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Quiet bird calls echoed through his ears, the only sound to greet him this early in the morning. Ghostbur still rested on top of him, head tucked into the crook of his shoulder and hey, wait - was he drooling? That was fucking gross dude. Almost unconsciously, he wiped the corner of Ghostbur’s mouth with his sleeve, continuing to let him sleep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A part of it felt familiar, as if he had done that before. The thought sent a weird feeling through his veins, some gross concoction of disgust, deja vu, and nostalgia, amongst other things. If he had, in fact, done something like that before, he didn’t have any recollection of it - not that wiping someone’s spit would have exactly been a good memory for him. Who the fuck finds joy in that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shrugged it off. It wasn’t important, not that he would remember even if it was. He’d probably just done it before for Loverboy, the gross dick. Broken memories and drool aside, it was kinda peaceful being the only person awake. Made him think a bit, or reflect, if you wanted to get pretentious about it. His memory book was in his pocket though, which he couldn’t get to since Ghostbur (that motherfucker) was currently sleeping right on top of him, so reflecting on good memories was sorta out of the picture. Look, when you can’t remember half your life, and only the shitty parts are coherent in your head, you learn to deal. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, how was he going to fuck up his mental psyche this time? He could think about how he executed his son. Oh! He could think about how he died again, surrounded by people who hated him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or he could ponder over Quackity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A painful sense of deja vu washed over him, as he recalled the other day. Having a door slammed in his face seemed to have uncovered… not-so-great memories, to put shit lightly. His stomach churned with the memory of him in a drunken stupor, the alcohol thick on his tongue and mind. They had fought, when Quackity had seen him like that, both of them going for the throat, only riling each other up in the process. Him, saying something he shouldn’t’ve said like he always did, and being met with only silence. And then, within a ragged breath, the slamming of the door as his love left him for what Friend - fuck, Schlatt? - knew wouldn’t be the last time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Despite what anyone had said behind his back, despite the cutting words and the thoughtless acts he had committed near the end, he loved Quackity. <em>Had </em>, loved Quackity. He couldn’t explain it if some fucko asked him, but even if all he was left with was the fractured pieces - chips and fragments that he, no doubt, had caused - he would have said that he loved Quackity every time. Even if he couldn’t remember what it was like before it all went wrong. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Moving on before his eyes started pissing tears, his gaze flickered back to Ghostbur, peacefully curled up in his arms. Sometimes, he was glad that Loverboy didn’t remember any of the bad shit. It certainly made it easier for him, not having all that crap hanging over his head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In times like now, all he fucking felt was guilt. Well-deserved, in all of its many causes. And Ghostbur, one of these such causes, didn’t remember any of the bad stuff. Friend knew he couldn’t hate him for everything that he had done in the past. That being said, Ghostbur ought to own up to it and not run awa-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hated thinking about it. It just led him in circles. As far as internal debates went, this one lurked at the back of his mind constantly; not fucking ideal for someone attempting to get better. He was doing the same thing Ghostbur was anyways, lying to everyone that he didn’t remember. Glass houses and all that shit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wondered if he had gotten a grave. Would someone make a grave for someone they hated? Or was his body simply left to rot? He’d look around for the camarvan if he could, but considering that nothing in L’Manburg was the same as it was before, he assumed that something really bad had happened after he left. Hell, most of L’Manburg was on stilts for Christ's sake. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And for another thing, where was Ghostbur’s grave? The motherfucker was the former president of this place, he should have a statue, or some money with his face on it at the very least. Maybe a fountain - Ghostbur always liked to play around in the water, even if it nearly gave Friend a second life-ending-heart-attack every time he did. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe he’d ask around about that. Goggles probably wouldn’t know anything, the guy spent most of his time at his little twink house growing mushrooms or whatever the fuck he did. Ramble couldn’t remember what he did an hour ago, so he was off the table. McHissy the Creeper guy only glared at him whenever he walked by, so he doubted the dude would answer anything he asked. He could have sworn that there was another guy (there was always another guy or lady), but if he couldn’t remember their fucking name, then there wasn’t much use in trying. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His ears perked up at the sound of a groan, coming from the lump of ghost currently still on his chest. “Ah, I see Loverboy has finally awoken. Took you long enough, bitch.” A hand swatted at his face sleepily, as Ghostbur began to wake up. The dude had a knack for waking up whenever Friend was getting a little too existential, that was for sure. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...What time is it even?” Yawning, Ghostbur stretched out, which had to have been a force of habit. After all, they were ghosts - it wasn’t like they really had muscles to stretch. Ducking quickly, Friend just barely managed to dodge an unintentional punch to the jaw, laughing at how unwieldy Ghostbur was with his fucking long limbs in the early hours. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, by the clock on the wall? Around eight, you actually woke up earlier than your normal-” With Ghostbur awake now, he managed to sneak a hand to his pocket to pull out his memory book. “-twelve o’fuck in the afternoon. Impressive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You kept me up late last night! It’s not my fault for being tired!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh I kept you up late last night hm?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was worth the swat to his arm, Ghostbur’s laugh coming out in airy peals. “Not like that! We were looking at the lanterns together silly!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So they had been. Messy handwriting, unlike his own, covered the newest entry in his memory book, Ghostbur’s work, most likely. They had talked about Ghostbur’s family, it seemed… Tommy and Technoblade. Even the thought of the latter gave him the chills, despite the warm air of their home. He hadn’t feared much near the end, but he keeled over before he would let Technoblade kill him, so he assumed that there weren't any good memories of the man to be forgotten. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Aren’t you supposed to visit one of your brothers today? I could have fucking sworn you had said something to me about it, but I must have been slow as shit because I only wrote down ‘Ghostbur fucks off somewhere’ and that doesn’t exactly give me much context.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! You’re right! I’m supposed to visit Tommy today! He’s off on holiday, so he isn’t in L’Manburg with us. You’d like Tommy, I think, you’re both pretty similar! Minus the ghost part...” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Heh, I’d hope not. The world can only handle one of me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Would you like to come with me, Friend? I feel like he doesn’t get many visitors, considering how far away he is. Why he chose to go on holiday so far away from home, I’m not entirely sure.” Friend glanced down at him, immediately met with a face full of puppy eyes. Fuck. Shit. Of course that would be his fucking weakness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t really guarantee that he’ll be happy to see me. He’ll love seeing you though, you with your head full of nothing but sappy feelings and crap.” He pinched Ghostbur’s cheek, smiling back at him. Tommy would hate seeing Friend, that was one thing he was sure about. He doubted that the kid would have forgiven him for the exile, and for executing his best friend, and for- well, just about everything. And, considering how fiercely Tommy had fought for his place back in L’Manburg, Friend doubted that he went on this so-called ‘holiday’ by choice. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I haven’t introduced you to him! You don’t know that yet!” And now Ghostbur was whining, this fuck really knew that he had him wrapped around his pinky finger. He was doomed. Might as well see how this turned out. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright you child, I’ll go see your kid brother or whatever. If he tries to cut my head off though, I’m blaming you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now, come on, we got shit to do. I’m pretty sure you bring gifts to people you haven’t seen in a while, we gotta make a cake or something. Get your lanky-ass body off me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re just trying to cover up the fact that you cuddle me in your sleep!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No I am fucking not!” He would deny that shit to his grave, but if he was hiding a smile as they got up, that was his own problem, thank you very fucking much. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Nether was creepy as hell, and looked just like it, too. From the oceans of lava to the blood-red stone and gross-ass creatures that wanted to kill you, it was pretty much the textbook definition of hell. Not that Friend had read many textbooks, anyways. The entire place gave him what Ghostbur would call ‘the heebie jeebies,’ and that wasn’t even counting the fact that piglins kept looking at Ghostbur like he was a snack on wheels or some shit. Must have been the sweater - piglins had a thing for gold, right?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If anyone ever asked, he didn’t cling to Ghostbur on the way there, and he most certainly didn’t jump at the slightest sound that those asshole piglins made. Nope. Not at all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did make fun of their boots though. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur and himself continued their trip, which had already begun to feel miles long, hindered by soul sand. Walking over it just felt... wrong to Friend. And kinda fucking creepy, considering that there was literally the word ‘soul’ within the name. What more were he and Ghostbur than souls? Could it have been the two of them shrieking out in the Nether, trapped for all eternity? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of all the afterlifes, at least he didn’t end up stuck in some fucking sand, if that was even a possibility in the first place. Wasn’t like he didn’t still shiver at the thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’re almost there Friend! He’s just around this corner, mind the drop!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who makes a fucking single-file bridge in the Nether? Pretty sure none of this is up to safety code Loverboy.” Hands linked, Friend knew that realistically, the lava couldn’t hurt him. He had chilled in it after a breakdown after all, while Ghostbur was away, so he knew that he couldn’t burn. But seeing the large expanse of it still made him a little shaky to say the least. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy, apparently! When we get there, I oughta show you the prime log! He loves that thing, says that it pleases the Prime Gods or something of the like.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of them emerged from the Nether with a hiss of air, and a disorientating push into the Overworld. He really didn’t like Nether-traveling, but the other option was rowboating over an entire ocean, and Friend would eat his own foot before you got him into a boat willingly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy! I’m back from L’Manburg! I brought a new friend! And also a gift!” Ghostbur’s voice called out the moment they stepped off the obsidian frame, Friend taking in the surroundings of Tommy’s ‘holiday home.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To put it bluntly, it was a shithole. A complete and utter piece of crap. There was cobblestone in the shape of a phone, signs posted on it as if they were apps. Random holes littered the ground, too uniform to be a creeper, but also unexplainable as to why else they would be there. Why didn’t he bother to fill in the holes? And then there was the eyesore of a cobblestone tower, and the fact that the kid seemed to live in a tent. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He could immediately pick out which building Ghostbur built, a little cottage area labeled with a sign, the words spelling out ‘Logstedshire.’ Huh. As far as names went, it wasn’t half bad, but it was made out of logs, so it was probably a pun. That motherfucker. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur’s hand tightened in his when the kid finally showed himself. Turning towards him, Friend immediately knew why. He looked… lifeless. His eyes, which Friend had remembered as such an obnoxiously bright blue, were now more like muddy puddles - not to mention the dark circles below them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ghostbur! You’re back! And you brought-” The kid cut himself off sharply as he drew in a ragged, rageful breath. “YOU BROUGHT FUCKING SCHLATT?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!” An iron sword (didn’t this kid have netherite once?) was unsheathed from his hip and pointed at Friend threateningly. “STEP AWAY FROM MY BROTHER YOU FUCKING PRICK, YOU HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE MAN-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What? No! Tommy! This is Friend! He’s nice!” Ghostbur slipped his hand out of Friend’s, rushing to Tommy’s side in an instant. The kid seemed to melt at his touch, just for a moment, before pushing Ghostbur behind him, sword still pointed at Friend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“THIS IS SCHLATT! THE GUY WHO HURT US BEFORE! AND HE’LL FUCKING DO IT AGAIN! STAY BEHIND ME, GHOSTBUR!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The blade slid into Friend’s chest before Tommy had even finished speaking, cold and precise. Good thing Friend was already dead, though that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt like a bitch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, a gift? We didn’t even give you ours yet, what a gracious host.” Deadpan, he pulled the sword out of his abdomen before the skin started to heal around it. It would hurt so much fucking more if it did, even if his body probably meant well. Unnerved at the sight, no gush of blood followed as the blade slid out of his chest; not that Friend was complaining. He wasn’t especially in the mood to feel as if he was bleeding out, thank you very fucking much. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was most certainly going to bitch about his sweater though. That shit didn’t reform, so he’d have to either go around with a gaping hole in it, or sew it up. He’d ask Ghostbur about that later, after- </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh <em> shit.</em> Tommy. The kid was pale as a sheet (which was fair, as Friend did just pull a sword out of his body like it was nothing) and sucking in another ragged breath in unpleasant surprise. Ghostbur didn’t look much better, and he was naturally pale in this version, so that was definitely a bad sign. His friend was immediately on him once the sword was out, pulling up the hem of his sweater to check out the wound. Thank god it was already healing. “Friend, Friend are you okay???”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah Loverboy, I’m fine. I’ve had worse, everything is okay.” Bumping heads with the other ghost, he held back a whine of pain as the flesh in his abdomen knitted itself back together, cell by cell. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now the trick with Ghostbur was that you had to stay <em> calm, </em> even if your insides were screaming at having to regenerate after a fucking hole was carved in your body. Otherwise, you’d freak him out more, and then the guy would shut down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey kid, you want your sword back? I don’t actually want this.” He turned his attention back to Tommy, thinking that he should probably address the kid sometime, as he was the entire reason that they had come to this back-water place. Ghostbur was clutching one of his arms in a death grip, so he held out the sword to Tommy with the other, the blade pointed down so as to be as non-threatening as possible. “I have to say, that wasn’t the worst greeting I've had, but it certainly wasn’t delightful. I’m Friend. Nice to meet you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy’s eyes looked between Friend and his sword, hand shaking as he snatched it back. What shit had this kid seen out here? There wasn’t even a snarky quip or anything this time, just uncomfortable shifting and some grumble about “hallucinations and shit”. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re uh, welcome I suppose. I’m Friend, Ghostbur’s fucking, hey Loverboy, would you consider me a friend?” He turned to Ghostbur, hopefully pulling him out of his spiral before his friend broke down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...huh? Oh! Yes! He’s my friend! He doesn’t remember much, and people keep calling him by a different name, but he is Friend. He snores in his sleep and he complains a lot, but I love him very much!” Well. That was certainly not what he expected. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wait a moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do not bitch constantly! I bitch an average amount, thank you very much." Don't fucking cry don't fucking cry don't fucking cry- "And I do not snore! We don't even breathe, how the hell am I supposed to snore?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Friend was attempting to hold in all his sappy emotions at the sudden declaration of affection, Ghostbur floated back over to Tommy, embracing him tightly. "Don't listen to him, he's fibbing again. It's so good to see you!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ghostbur you know that this is some of the fucking weirdest shit I've seen today. And I regularly wake up in the ocean like a fish. But on steroids and shit." Tommy returned the hug nonetheless, even if he still looked at Friend like he was planning a murder mystery with him as the victim. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What have you and Mushroom Henry been up to? You have been remembering to feed her right?" </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yeah yeah, I've been remembering and shit." He nonchalantly waved his hand, dismissing him playfully. It was such a switch from the quiet, paranoid kid from two seconds ago; even if he still looked like someone dragged him to hell and back. "Did I tell you about my beach party that I'm holding? I've been collecting sand and shit so that we can invite everyone over and I can actually see people! Since, y’know, nobody comes and visits me. And I’m gonna make a big cake. Big cake for a big man, you know what I’m sayin’? But if it turns out shitty, you're baking a new one."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course! I know you struggle with baking, so I'll come and help you. Friend, you can help too!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy's face seemed to fall at the thought, eyes steely as he looked over at Friend. "Come on Ghostbur, we don't fucking need Schlatt over here to bake cake, do we?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this point, Friend was pretty sure that this was hopeless. There was no way that Tommy would want to be around him, even with Ghostbur there as a buffer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But before Friend could make up some excuse to head home, Ghostbur pulled him over, sandwiching himself between Tommy and him. “Come on Big T! Friend can help set up for your party! Lads on tour, plus Friend!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy and Friend shared a terse look at one another - “He doesn’t have any weapons on him, right? No… no TNT?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>TNT? Why would he ask about TNT? What the fuck happened to this kid? Confused, Friend pulled out his memory book. “This is the only thing I keep on me. Don’t really need to eat, being a ghost and shit, and monsters don’t usually give a shit about me, so it’s not like I need weapons.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At least Tommy seemed a little more at ease with that. Or at least, he had actually bothered to put his sword back on his hip, which was a start. “Fine. Let it be known that I think you are a bitch and a terrible, terrible old man.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tommy!” Ghostbur objected, even despite Friend’s laughter. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait, Loverboy, we got a gift for him right? You still have that shit in your fucking giant pockets?” Ah yes, changing the topic, a tactic as see-through as glass. But it seemed to work at least, Ghostbur’s eyes lighting up as he dug around for the gift. </p>
<p>He had no idea how it fit, but somehow, he had managed to fit an entire diamond axe into the pockets of his jeans. Physics or something must be broken on this SMP, considering the shit that people are able to fit into their pockets on a daily basis. Friend was pretty sure he saw Ramble shove over two hundred fifty cooked steaks into his pocket once, if the entries in his memory book are anything to go off of. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy seemed pleased though, judging by the way that the gift was promptly snatched out of Ghostbur’s hands. “Fucking pog! I haven’t been able to get diamonds in forever! I never figured out how to find them properly.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We figured so! Now, how about that cake?” Ghostbur glanced between Tommy and Friend, the smile permanently etched on his face only growing wider at the prospect.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was going to be a long visit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>______________________________________________________________________________</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend you fucking dickhead, you got flour all over my shirt!” Tommy, fuming mad, was absolutely covered in the stuff, which only succeeded in making Friend laugh louder and make Tommy more annoyed. What was the big deal anyways? The shirt was dirty as hell and torn to shit, and he didn’t suppose it had any sentimental value.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think the flour is the least of your problems there, considering all the holes and shit. Goddamn, you British people don’t know how to prioritize.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Baking had gone… surprisingly well, if Friend was being honest. Though, that was likely because Ghostbur was supervising the entire time, making sure that the kid didn’t put another sword through him before they had finished the cake. Progress was progress he supposed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>All three of them had crammed into the tiny fucking cabin that Ghostbur had set up in Logstedshire, elbows knocking against one another as they stood at the counter mixing ingredients. Friend and Ghostbur actually had their feet on the ground for once. Loverboy had said something about how it “makes Tommy more aware that they’re actually real” or some shit. That begged the question, how long had Tommy been out here that he was questioning reality? Was this what it was like when Friend had exiled him? The poor kid tearing himself up trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t? The pit in his stomach only deepened at the thought. He knew it would swallow him whole someday, but for now, he could focus on baking. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The prototype cake that they created had also turned out surprisingly well; a monstrosity of frosting and sprinkles, but a cake nonetheless. They hadn’t been sure if vanilla or chocolate was better (Tommy and Ghostbur shut down Friend’s idea of mixing both in one bowl) so they had made it layered - vanilla on the top, chocolate on the bottom. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can we get a pogchamp in the chat over this cake boys? I gotta say, all my hard work paid off. I did this all by myself.” Tommy smiled over his shoulder at the two of them, eyes more clear than he had seen the entire time he was here. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You fucker, don’t you start that, you nearly used mushroom soup in place of milk! We’d’ve had a fucking soup cake! What, do you like soup cake?” Friend quipped back at Tommy from where he was cleaning up, causing Ghostbur to giggle in the process.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I think a soup cake would taste fucking delicious!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d like to try our cake first before we make one with soup, Tommy,” Ghostbur giggled, fidgeting with the sleeves that he had rolled up to his elbows earlier. Friend couldn’t help but notice the odd starbursts of burn scars littering his arms - faded, but not particularly old. Must have been something from when he was alive. Tommy’s childish screaming interrupted his thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck yeah! I call the first slice!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“TOMMY NO WE DON’T USE SWORDS TO CUT CAKE-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“VIVA LA REVOLUTION BITCH!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy was no longer allowed to cut the cake after that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But hey! The cake was good! Even if it was sorta mashed by being cut with a fucking sword. Though neither him nor Ghostbur particularly needed to eat, they both had some anyway - if they left it all to Tommy, the kid was sure to get sick on it, trying to eat the whole thing and prove that he’s a “Big Man”. Plus, it was nice to create something for once, instead of destroying things.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sun had begun to sink into the sea (he was going to fight the sea one day, that motherfucker) by the time they had finished, and were planning on heading back to L’Manburg. Or at least, Friend was, he didn’t know about Ghostbur. Tommy, no matter how fond of his older brother he was, still strongly hated Friend’s guts. Which, once again, completely fair. He was on borrowed time either way. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A knock on the door tore Friend out of his thoughts, all three of them turning to look to where the noise came from. Scooting out from the table, he got up, pushing it open only to see-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, this is certainly an… interesting turn of events. Hello Ghostbur, Tommy, and… Schlatt! Didn’t expect to see you here. Well, I didn’t expect to see you at all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That cuck. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello Dream! We just finished up some baking, care to join us?” Ghostbur, failing to read the room as per usual, waved him in, the door creaking behind him as it was closed. If there was tension in the air before, it had practically tripled the moment Dream had stepped into the room. He looked around the room in an exaggeratedly calm manner like the cocky son of a bitch Friend remembered him to be. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was just here to pay Tommy a visit, uh, as usual, y’know, he doesn’t get many people this far out. But, um, I can see you two beat me to it!” That dick sure was laying it on thick, his candied words sour to Friend’s ears. Tommy looked fucking petrified at his arrival, the loud, annoying, macho-man personality long gone. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend didn’t say a word to Dream as the arrogant motherfucker walked over to the three of them, but if he had happened to shift ever-so-slightly to shield Tommy, that was no one else’s business than his own. Despite the warmth of the cabin, the kid was shivering, as if the mere sight of Dream was enough to shut him up - or down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, you made a cake! How… nice.” The motherfucker swiped his finger against the frosting on the remaining cake, eating it like the smug bastard he was. Which was absolutely disgusting. “It’s good. How did you get the ingredients for it out here?” He paused, as if expecting an answer, but nobody gave him one. Glatt wouldn’t give him the time of day, why would he entertain this idle pratter?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream then turned to Friend, his smile filled with way too much teeth, a shark who had caught a hint of fresh blood. “You’ve been awfully quiet Schlatt. Did you, uh, lose your voice when you came back?” Dream shifted his gaze onto Friend, and the small action made his skin crawl. God, he fucking hated attention. “It would be awful if that was the case, y’know, I wouldn’t be able to hear... what you’ve, uh, been up to!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don't understand why everyone keeps calling him that. His name is Friend! He doesn’t remember much, he lost most of his memories, just like I did.” Thank fuck for Ghostbur’s pouting. If Dream had kept his attention on Friend for any longer, he doubted that he could restrain himself from sucker-punching him, just like in the drunken brawls he used to get himself into. “He helped us make the cake! He’s not normally this quiet though. Are you well, Friend?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend shook off Ghostbur, making sure he still looked as nonchalant as possible. It was dangerous to show weakness to a character like Dream after all. One misstep and suddenly, you were on the floor with a knife to your throat. “I’m trying to remember if I know him from anywhere. So far, I’m having pretty shit luck with it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh really? Well, maybe I’ll check in with you later… see what exactly you remember. Though, we’ll have to- we’ll have to catch up at a different time; you aren’t who I’ve come here for.” Settled heavy on the kid, seeming to cut through him. “Tommy, you know the drill. Let’s go outside.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay Dream.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What the fuck was that about? His ears twitched, growing more nervous with whatever that implied by the second. But Tommy still got up, silently walking to the door and holding it open for Dream, who walked through without a care in the world. The kid followed behind as if already resigned to… whatever he was about to face. So what, no fight? Kid was just gonna give in like that? That wasn’t the impression that Friend had gotten from him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Smiles, hold the fuck up.” Pushing himself up from the table, he grabbed Ghostbur’s hand on the way to the door, tugging the other ghost alongside him as he trailed after Dream. “What the fuck are you doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, just a little cleaning up. It’s nothing really, you can watch if you like. I know this stuff is really, uh, up your alley.” They stepped outside of Logstedshire and out into the desecrated field, narrowly avoiding the abundant holes in the ground. Dream held out a hand for them to stop, once they had gotten to a spot that Dream, by some criteria, deemed adequate. He pulled out his mask and clipped it into place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a brief pause, Dream pulled out a shovel and began to dig until a hole, shallow and innocuous, was created. It wasn’t big enough to be a grave, at least. He then turned to Tommy, and even though that fucking creepy mask hid his face, Friend had the instinctive thought that under it, Dream was smiling. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Drop your things in the hole, Tommy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fuck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tommy pulled his iron sword off his hip, tossing it down into the hole, before heading back inside and grabbing some iron armour, dropping that as well. It only took a minute for him to empty his pockets of any sort of tools before backing up a few paces, as if-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holy shit, was that TNT? Friend pushed Ghostbur behind him and reached out, pulling Tommy back by his collar. Was Dream crazy?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Apparently so, as Dream set the explosive down in the pit, nocking an arrow onto his bow. The arrow looked wrong somehow, but before Friend could even try to figure out what the fuck was wrong with it, it suddenly burst into flames. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh fuck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Instinctively, Friend’s arm came up to cover his face, the smoke enveloping them like a fucking vape cloud; Ghostbur swatted wildly at the air in an attempt to steer it away. Friend mentally added another reason to his now growing list of reasons to throw hands with Dream. The smoke finally cleared to reveal a handful of Tommy’s items, undamaged and floating. Oh. So that’s why Friend had such a headache. There was no way anything would have survived otherwise. Friend stepped forward firmly to retrieve what he could from the smouldering crater before Dream could stop him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you think you’re doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The words may have been chilling on their own, but spoken by Dream? They only succeeded in making Friend’s blood boil. But he wasn’t an idiot. Well, at least not all the time. Putting on his best dazed smile, Friend forced himself to pretend as if he hadn’t noticed Dream blow up a kid’s belongings.  “Hm? My ears are still ringing, I can’t hear shit right now. But look! I found some of Tommy’s things! They were lying by this hole in the ground, what sort of dumbass just leaves craters everywhere?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stepped back over to where Ghostbur and Tommy were, taking note of how stained the other ghost’s hands were with Blue. How many times had Ghostbur stood and watched this? “Hey kid, here’s some of your shit. Keep better track of it, okay?” Tommy stiffly grabbed the chestplate and tools, his expression an odd mix of joy and fear as his gaze flitted wildly between Friend and Dream. Before the kid had a whole breakdown, Friend gently pushed him towards the house, nudging Ghostbur to follow him as well. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream was silent still. It was unnerving to Friend - not exactly the reaction he had expected. But now, he figured, is not the best time to try to figure out why. Still maintaining his character, Friend turned back to face him again. “As great as it is not knowing who the fuck you are, your mask is seriously creeping me out. How do you even see with that shit on? What, you like running into things?” If he could keep Dream’s attention on him, he might forget about Tommy and Ghostbur. He just had to be as bitchy as possible. That was easy enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream chuckled. “Nice to see you back to normal, Schlatt. Wouldn’t expect anything else from you, not even in death.” His expression shifted within an instant, taking on a smug sort of angry. Friend had only remembered seeing this type of face once or twice before, and if Dream himself was enough of a bad omen, then this was the flood. Dream rolled his shoulders, voice dripping with poisoned honey. “You didn’t <em> really </em> forget anything, did you, Schlatt?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Honestly? That scared the shit out of him. But Friend refused to break.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Look man, I got no fucking clue what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my death, and I have no goddamn idea if I’ve ever seen you in my life. And what’s up with this ‘Schlatt’ thing? You seem to call me that an awful lot,” He kept his tone as confused as possible, his ears tilted and eyebrows furrowed, pretending to ponder over the cuck’s words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh come on, Schlatt is <em> your </em> name. The one you had when you were alive. Don’t pretend like you don’t remember it.” Dream only seemed to become more irritated at Friend’s answers. Excellent. Misdirection and all that shit. It was a dangerous game that Friend was playing, he knew. But then again, he was never one to step away from a game, especially one so graciously set up for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Smiles, I barely remember what I did yesterday. I couldn’t be faking this if I tried.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> Dream’s mask leered back at him, the smooth clay spilling no secrets. But it had seemed that Friend had won this round at least, as the other man loosened up, no longer on the offensive. “Of course. Ghost memories and all that, I guess? Well, it was nice chatting with you, but I really oughtta be going. I’m expected elsewhere.” Dream paused thoughtfully. “I hope we’ll, uh, meet again… Friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eh, we’ll see. ‘Till next time Smiles.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream was gone by the time he blinked, leaving only purple particles in his wake. Motherfucker must have ender-pearled away. Wasn’t any of Friend’s business though. Ghostbut was probably worried about him, and Tommy was probably bitching up a storm already, about something or another - both more important to Friend than the asshole who tried to ruin everybody’s life for fun. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t bother looking back at where the man stood, heading back inside to the warmth of Logstedshire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He only hoped that it would <em> stay </em> warm. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>&gt;:3 This is clearly foreshadowing if you cannot tell</p>
<p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. A Cup Of Warm Tea Won't Chase Away The Cold Night (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I know I'm late, but in my defense, memory go brrr<br/>On another hand, no major warnings for this chapter, other than brief Dream interaction (plus slight mention of injuries due to snow). Have fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friend and him visited Tommy a lot in the days leading up to the party. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was a little odd to Ghostbur. Not the visiting part, of course, he couldn’t go that long without annoying his little brother. It was only a little peculiar that Friend, previously adamant about leaving Tommy alone, was suddenly volunteering to come with Ghostbur every time he went. Not that he was judging, of course. He was happy to see Friend making new friends. And Tommy did seem happier whenever the two of them visited! Ghostbur greatly enjoyed watching them become competitive with one another while they were out gathering materials, or simply just hanging around outside Logstedshire. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>On their most recent visit, they had gone to show the invitations they had worked on to Tommy, but were met instead with Tommy fast asleep in a huddle of blankets. So, Friend had suggested that they get a head start on delivering, before either one of them forgot. Which was such a great idea! Friend was so smart sometimes!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had just reached the portal when something began to feel… a little off. Nothing to be worried about surely! Must have been the darkness, or something of the like.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sudden chill rose at the back of his neck, following the quiet, wave-like whoosh of a riptide trident.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello you two. Beautiful night, huh?” His voice was probably meant to sound nonchalant, but there was something else hidden in there, something that wasn’t very friendly at all. Friend stiffened beside him, squeezing Ghostbur’s hand tightly at the sight of the masked man. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why it is! Though, any night where it isn’t raining is beautiful to me. Makes it easier to travel places. What are you doing here Dream? Tommy is asleep right now, so I don’t think he’s interested in a visit.” He worried about what Friend was feeling right now. Ghostbur really didn’t like conflict, especially when he couldn’t tell what others were thinking. Plus, it made everyone so sad, and that was no good at all. Whatever happened, Ghostbur needed to remain calm, otherwise Friend would go on the defensive for him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Actually, I was here for you two! I, um, checked around L’Manburg, but you weren’t there. So... I figured you’d come here, and it turns out, I was right!” The mask shifted upwards slightly, revealing Dream’s smirk, sharp teeth glinting in the dimming sun. It was too smooth, too perfect, Ghostbur noted, for it to have been a mistake. What was Ghostbur saying? Of course it was a mistake! Dream probably just didn’t notice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck would you want with <em> us </em>?” Friend spat out from his place at Ghostbur’s side. He began to step forward before Ghostbur tugged him back, a squeeze of his hand hopefully persuading him to back down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, it’s less what I want with you, and more what I want from you. See, Tommy wanted me to deliver the invitations for the beach party. Said it would be more, well, you know, reliable. After all, you two don’t have the best track record with remembering things, do you?” The green cloak shifted as Dream rocked on his heels, revealing a netherite axe gleaming with enchantments. Though, that was probably just the wind! It was beginning to get a little stronger, after all. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s funny, I don’t remember him telling us anything about that, did he Ghostbur?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I thought you couldn’t remember anything?” Dream quipped. Ghostbur felt Friend’s hand tighten ever-so-slightly in his. After a long silence that proved Friend wasn’t going to answer him, Dream continued. “Now, if you could hand over those invitations, I’ll let you two go and, uh, be on your way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would we-” “Of course! Let me pull them out!” Cutting off Friend, he rummaged through his pockets, handing over the thick stack of cards that the three of them had painstakingly customized for each invitee. Ghostbur noted the Blue that had stained the outsides of the envelopes. He hoped that no one would be too upset about it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good. Well, I guess I’ll be going then. You two should go for a walk - I’ve heard that a walk in the snow does wonders for your health.” As quickly as he appeared, Dream was gone again, trident pulling him along amongst the clouds. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Silence followed as the two of them stared at the space where Dream had previously occupied. Ghostbur had already slipped his free hand into his pocket, fingers coated in the powdery Blue. He was going to need to get some more soon, he had nearly run out!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ghostbur, you know that-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What were they talking about before? He could have sworn that it was something, but Friend seemed broody, so it was probably best that he didn’t remember. “Oh, we should go visit Techno! He’s probably still up, and I haven’t visited him in a while.” His smile felt off, but as long as it was there, he didn’t have to worry about anything! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tugged Friend off across the crater-filled field (how had it gotten that bad anyways?), off towards the snowy plains of eternal winter. “We might have to ask Techno for some cloaks once we get there, I’m not sure if it will- oh! Yep, there’s the snow!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is a fucking stupid idea Loverboy, why did you give Dream those invitations? That guy’s a massive dick!” His ears were pulled back against his head, and while Ghostbur couldn’t see his tail from while they were walking, he was almost certain that it was just as restless as the rest of him. “I mean, fuck, he blew up Tommy’s stuff the first time we went to see the kid!’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean? We only baked a cake the first time we went,” Ghostbur replied, perplexed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You- You know what, forget it. Why are we walking in the snow again? It’s fucking cold out here you know, and this shit is probably going to melt us.” Friend was floating above him, likely in an attempt to avoid the snow at all costs. The snow. Now that Ghostbur thought of it, he hadn’t felt the snow hissing at his skin in a while.  Was Friend shielding him from the snow? He quickened their pace, the grip on Friend’s hand tightening as the snow began to come down harder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A light, far off in the distance but there, finally came into view. Ghostbur let out a relieved sigh. “There’s Techno’s! Come on Friend, we’re almost there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mmkay Loverboy…” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His feet began to kick up snow as he broke out in a sprint, Friend’s grip growing more slack as the snow continued to fall down on them. The deceiving flakes burned at his arms and face as what had previously been a pleasant dusting grew into a blizzard. The air around him felt thick and heavy, like he was drowning in it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Thankfully, they managed to reach Techno’s house before they were fully caught out in the snow (who knows when they would have reformed), blistering wounds up and down their bodies as Ghostbur slammed the door open, not even bothering to knock. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He ignored the baffled look that Techno gave the two of them when he floated up to the second floor, pulling a half-conscious Friend along with him to the firepit. The heat of the coals felt nice, solidifying his melted limbs, a familiar and broken feeling seeping into his bones. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend seemed to be doing better now that he was heating up. Both of them were still incorporeal, but the pain was obviously subsiding. Friend no longer had his ears pressed tight against his head, and his tail had relaxed enough that it was no longer hanging limp between his legs. Though, on closer examination, Ghostbur was unsure if that was a result of the healing warmth of the fire, or the fact that Friend seemed to have fallen asleep. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pulling Friend into his side, he leaned his head against the warm stone of the fireplace, counting the seconds until Techno would come up to see what was the matter. By that time, he likely wouldn’t remember any of this, or at least that was the hope. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His hands seemed to be stained constantly blue nowadays. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A quiet stomping of boots signalled that Techno had finally followed them, his usual stoic expression becoming concerned. “Ghostbur?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Hi Techno! Me and Friend got a little caught up in the snow, do you mind if we hold up here until the snow slows down?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That isn't the problem here, Ghostbur. Why were you even out during a blizzard? And why did you slam my door? You could’ve at least knocked! Instead you were just like ‘la-dee-da I’m just going to destroy Techno’s property value’! I could’ve been sleeping!” Techno’s voice grew increasingly more gravelly as he went on this rant, a crescendo of faux-annoyance hiding how comedic Techno found the whole thing. Or himself. Ghostbur always thought he was pretty funny! It made up for everything else, he had once teased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It wasn’t a blizzard before! And we’re fine anyways. There’s no need to fret Techno!” What was he even worried about? They were all fine! Sure, their limbs were still a little softer than usual, but that was normal when you got caught out in the weather. “How are you doing, oh brother of mine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, just dandy, Ghostbur. I was just going about my day, grinding for some materials, and then these two ghosts barge into my house like they’re running for their lives. Wouldn’t that just be the perfect day?” Techno murmured sarcastically. His tone shifted, however, for just a moment. “You doing alright by the firepit there Ghostbur?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh! Yes, it’s the easiest way to reform after getting caught in some water. It’s warm too, care to join us?” Owlishly, he peered up at Techno, who had been shifting his weight awkwardly during the entire conversation. He was probably just caught off guard, usually Ghostbur did announce his visits beforehand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I’ll have to pass for now. I don’t think my fireplace is big enough for three people, it seems to barely fit two as it is. Do you, uh, need anything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Some tea would be lovely if you could.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Techno walked out, mumbling something along the lines of ‘guy comes in here unannounced and he’s still after my tea stash,’ anything else covered up by the crackle of the fire as his brother walked away, heading down to the kitchen. As the quiet settled in, Ghostbur began to look over Friend, knowing that if something formed wrong, Friend wouldn’t bring it up until it physically pained him enough. So he always needed to check! Just so that Friend would take care of himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their sweaters would have to be fixed again, oh fiddlesticks. He had just mended them too - soon enough they’d be so threadbare that they’d need to get new ones. But he liked this sweater! It was soft, and Tommy had always told him that it reminded him of ‘that bright ass fucker in the sky,’ which he assumed was a compliment, as the Sun was lovely.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound of Techno’s throat clearing snapped him out of his trance, causing him to turn towards him, his smile growing wider. “Did you break out your fancy chamomile tea just for your little brother?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh yes, because you’re so much younger than me, dear twin brother of mine. I put a pot of tea on because I was expecting Phil over, but he messaged me that he was gonna take longer than usual.” Techno handed him a cup, setting one down on the floor for Friend as well. “Don’t spill it on my hardwood floors.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, my hands are a little gelatinous right now, so I make no promises!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Never use that word around me again, or I’m gonna stick you downstairs with Bob.” Techno paused tentatively and looked down at Ghostbur’s partially melted companion. “So, I can only assume that this is your ‘Friend’ that you were blabbering to me about?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes! He’s sleeping right now, but normally he’s a real spitfire!” It was a little hard maneuvering himself to be able to drink his tea when Friend was laying on top of him, but he managed! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So I’ve heard. I’ll have to have a chat with him once he wakes up. Get some sleep Wil, you look exhausted.” Ghostbur raised an eyebrow at him. “I won’t be going to sleep for a while, so don’t expect me to join your cuddle pile. And make sure you don’t ruin my property value more so than you already have.” Techno’s expression softened despite his words, pulling up a chair. It was nice, he didn’t get to see him like this too often. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He set the mug, now empty, onto the edge of the fireplace, and joined Friend in his warm, comfortable sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*lone kazoo noises* <br/>You ever just, yearn for soup? I really want soup rn and I cannot figure out why</p>
<p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Ah Yes, To Wake Up And Immediately Get Threatened, How Peachy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the lateness! I had a killer headache this afternoon and it only went away a bit ago. But I hope this chapter makes up for it! We're throwing Technoblade in the mix ;) so that'll be interesting.<br/>Heads up for Techno threatening Glatt, uhhh blackmail, and angry older brother Tech in this chapter, k?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Usually, you don’t wake up with ash in your mouth inside some random fucker’s fireplace with your friend - holy shit, were they friends? - curled up into your side. Usually, you don’t expect to black out incorporeal &amp; full of water burns and wake up completely healed.</p><p> </p><p>And usually you weren’t met with the stormy glare of a half piglin dude across the room. </p><p> </p><p>He knew that he probably looked like hell. His sweater must have been ripped in at least twelve different places from the snow last night, and sleeping over a pit of coal probably rendered his clothing fucked for good considering that cinders aren’t especially great for wool. As far as first impressions went, this had to be on the shit end of the scale. If this even was a first impression, that is - he had met the guy before when he was alive. And even though Friend’s memory failed him time and time again, there was one thing that he knew for certain.</p><p> </p><p>Technoblade, aka, the Blade, looked absolutely pissed.   </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning Schlatt.”</p><p> </p><p>“Considering Loverboy over here doesn’t go by that name, I assume you’re talking to me?” He needed some time to work up to his ‘ditzy ghost’ character, Jesus, what time even was it? Trick question, he thought - too early for this shit. </p><p> </p><p>“You don't need to play pretend with me, Schlatt. He already told me you aren’t totally clueless.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>~FUCK~</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?” Could he make a break for it? Disappear out into the wilderness and make himself a shack to live out the rest of his afterlife in? No, Ghostbur would get sad, and Tommy still needed someone looking out for him. Someone, at least, whose memory was more reliable when it came to shit like... <em>that</em>. Plus, Techno looked like he could kill him a second time, if given the chance. Friend didn’t even know if that was possible, but even in life he hadn’t been a gambling man. </p><p> </p><p>“You see, while Ghostbur seems to enjoy your presence enough to let you hang around, I’m still aching to find out if people can die twice. But I’m not here to execute you without trial, like some sort of government. So, make your case.” Friend threw a confused look back at Techno. “I might be an anarchist, but I still have my morals. Most times, anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>Friend thought to blame Ghostbur for this, but he knew it wasn’t his fault. I mean, Casper The Friendly Ghost, as forgetful as he may be, only wanted to make people smile. He didn’t realize that it had been a bad idea to tell his stoic, vengeful brother that Friend wasn’t quite the amnesiac that he had made himself out to be. It was Friend’s fault, he determined, for thinking that he could fool everybody - he silently cussed himself out. </p><p> </p><p>“Time’s ticking <em>Friend</em>, and I haven’t killed anything since my retirement. That option is looking more <em>tempting</em> by the second.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright alright, no need to fucking threaten me. Can we have this conversation somewhere else though? I don’t want to mess with whatever homoerotic mood you’re setting up, and I’d prefer to let the guy sleep.” He didn’t know how long Ghostbur had been up last night, probably fretting over him like an overgrown mother hen. He deserved to rest for a little while, without Friend fucking up his sleep schedule with his big mistakes. </p><p> </p><p>“We can go outside.” Technoblade loomed over him as Friend untangled his limbs from Ghostbur’s, brushing some of Loverboy’s hair out of his face before he left. Then, silently, he followed Technoblade down the ladder and out the door.</p><p> </p><p>He hoped Ghostbur wouldn’t be too alarmed when he woke up.</p><p> </p><p>Stepping out into the crisp morning air (god, who the fuck calls air crisp. It wasn’t a tortilla chip, it was just <em>air</em>), he and Technoblade stood facing one another, an anarchist to a former tyrant. If this guy didn’t try to kill him purely for the fact that he had exiled his brothers, he surely would put him in the ground (again) for the fact that he was formerly part of a government. </p><p> </p><p>“So why’d you choose to live out in the fucking snow? Not exactly the most welcoming climate to live in for your brother.” The small talk was painful, but he needed time to collect his thoughts. What the fuck do you say to a guy like him?</p><p> </p><p>“It reminds me of home. You still haven’t explained yourself. There is plenty of snow here to push you into.” The answer was clipped; straight to the point, as always. </p><p>Here goes nothing, Friend supposed.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever… I dunno, looked back at your mistakes and wanted to just… start over? That probably seems crazy to you, I mean, the great fucking Technoblade never makes mistakes, right?” If he was gonna be truthful, he was gonna be so fucking truthful that it made him sick. It wasn’t like he had any other option. Ignoring the scratchy feeling in his throat, he continued.</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t completely lying when I said that I didn’t remember shit. The only thing that I really can remember, crystal fucking clear, is all the horrible things I did in the past. Everything else-” he clicked his tongue, looking off at the expanse of white snow. “-gone. So believe me when I say that I end up thinking about that shit a <em>lot</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Technoblade seemed to look at him with - what was that, pity? Fucking pity? Friend knew he didn’t deserve it, and he was about to make that very clear.</p><p> </p><p>“Doesn’t make up for the shit that I did, though. I’m sorta trying to, fuck, what’s the word... work towards that, I guess? I dunno. That’s probably selfish of me, I mean, I did sorta destroy Loverboy’s country from the inside out, among other things. Guess I've never really been an altruistic person, have I?” Friend recalled with a bitter laugh, if you could even call it that. God, this was painful. Out of all the people he was spilling his guts to, it had to be Technoblade? The guy was just standing there in silence! </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve always been a conman. I won’t lie about that. But if I have even the slightest sliver of a chance to redeem myself, even just for a moment, I’m gonna fucking take that chance. I know that it will fall apart in the end like it always does, but it feels goddamned nice while it lasts.” Even if Friend doesn’t deserve nice things, he thought. He turned to look into Techno’s eyes. He knew that he couldn’t be intimidating to this man - not by power, or skill, and especially not by stature. The guy was a fucking goliath, and he could - would - probably crush him if he wanted to. But for once in his life, he wasn’t going to take the easy way out and run. He owed that much to Ghostbur, at least. </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade stared at him for a moment longer, stepping closer and closer until there was barely a foot of space between them. Goddamn, he was gonna give Friend a crick in his neck if this kept up; he had to look practically straight up to see the other’s face, and if he had still needed to use his bladder, he probably would have pissed out of fear. </p><p> </p><p>God his tusks were sharp. He never paid much attention to them from afar, but being this close to <em>the</em> fucking Technoblade made every feature of this guy more menacing. Friend knew that he was in for a losing fight if Technoblade did, in fact, choose to pick a fight with him. Even if he could turn incorporeal to escape his jabs, this guy seemed like the type to wear armor under his shirt in case someone tried to get the jump on him. </p><p> </p><p>Probably slept with armor on too. </p><p> </p><p>Wasn’t that tiring? Being paranoid? It certainly had been tiring for Friend, while he was alive at least. Countless nights spent awake, wondering if this was the night that he was going to be caught. He supposed it had worked out in the end though, his demise was by his own design. Still fucking sucked though. </p><p> </p><p>Just as Friend began to think that this one-sided rant would fail to fill the promise of a “conversation”, Technoblade finally spoke.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, I’m sure you’re fully aware that Ghostbur and I are brothers. Maybe not by blood, or by paper, or anything like that. But he’s suffered enough already, and it’s my duty to make sure that it doesn’t happen again.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, at least he had said something. It was better than just standing over Friend ominously, even if his voice wasn’t exactly what you’d call comforting. </p><p> </p><p>“And <em>you</em>,” Technoblade sneered, his voice filled with restrained rage, “Caused most of it. What I should do, is bury you so deep in the snow, that by the time that it melts, you’ll already have melted away with it.” Technoblade had pulled his axe out by this point, twirling it around in his fingers, the blade glinting with enchantments. Holy shit that thing’s close. One slip of that axe and Friend would be finding out where ghosts go when they die. “I could even call Phil to deal with you. I’m sure that he would have a few choice words to say to you for causing him to <em>kill his own child</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>The blade was at Friend’s throat in an instant, making him feel just a tad lightheaded, all things considered. </p><p> </p><p>“But, frankly, I think it’s more… beneficial, to keep you around. You’re of more use to me alive anyways - I could always use more leverage.”</p><p> </p><p>Ever so slowly, the axe was removed from its position, placed once again on Technoblade’s belt. What the fuck was Technoblade insinuating?</p><p> </p><p>“So, what’s the catch?” Friend had been a negotiator like this once. There had to be something. There was always something. Whether it was money, or work, or material goods, there was always something at the end of these exchanges that people wanted. </p><p> </p><p> “Well, I know your secret don’t I? I feel like that’s as much as a catch as anything.” A cruel smile broke out on Technoblade’s face as he stepped away from Friend, nearly causing him to stumble. “Oh, and I might use it as blackmail in the future. Potentially. It’s only fair.”</p><p> </p><p>He was kidding. </p><p> </p><p>“Now, I’d suggest we get inside before Ghostbur wakes up. I don’t really feel like explaining this, too much work in the middle of my retirement.”</p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t kidding. </p><p> </p><p>Ignoring his spiralling thoughts for the moment, he followed Technoblade back inside, immediately phasing through the ceiling to Ghostbur. The guy slept like a rock, but moving him too much usually did the trick. </p><p> </p><p>When he took a look back at the fireplace, he was relieved to find that the other was still fast asleep, breathing quietly out of habit, just like usual. Thank the fucking gods. It would have been a nightmare if he had woken up before he got back, even more if he had woken up during him and Techno’s… exchange. </p><p> </p><p>He carefully moved the tea cups (where the hell did they come from?) from their spot by the fireplace and set them on a nearby table before pulling Ghostbur out from the cinders. The fire had long died anyways, there was no use in keeping him laying there like an idiot. The pinpricks at his neck told him that Techno was still watching, but it didn’t stop him from floating the two of them up by the ceiling anyways, Ghostbur resting on his chest as Friend waited for him to wake up naturally. </p><p> </p><p>He resigned himself to watching Technoblade as he went about whatever the fuck he was up to now. His actions were nonsensical at times, plenty of muttering as he poured over books or brewed potions, pretending like Friend wasn’t there at all. For the most part anyways, his crossbow never let its place on his back, easy to reach in case something happened.</p><p> </p><p>At least a couple hours passed before Ghostbur stirred, and it took another twenty minutes before Friend could convince him to actually wake up instead of burrowing back into his sweater. Out of all the days he could have chosen to be a difficult riser, it had to be the one where they were at fucking <em>Technoblade’s house</em>? That shit was scary to say the least; he ignored said house-owner’s stare, doing his best to pretend the usual rumble in his throat hadn’t started up again.</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Ghostbur woke up before his brother could try to decipher the meaning behind the sound, even if he needed to dodge the fist that was unintentionally thrown his way. Seriously, they didn’t even have muscles to stretch!</p><p>“Good morning Friend! Why are we by the ceiling?”</p><p> </p><p>Right out the gate today, huh?</p><p> </p><p> “It felt more comfortable up here. The fire died a while ago, and I was tired of sitting in the fucking ash.”</p><p> </p><p>“No wonder, you’re covered in it! Techno?”</p><p> </p><p>The motherfucker’s head perked up, pretending as if he hadn’t already been watching the two of them. What a tool. “If you’re asking for another cup of tea, you’re gonna have to make it yourself. I’m <em>very</em> invested in how this Greek man is going to die.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have any spare clothes? Ours aren’t in the best condition at the moment,” Ghostbur questioned, fussing over the holes in his and Friend’s sweaters. “How did you even do this in the first place? You don’t make a habit of running through berry bushes last time I checked,” he joked.</p><p> </p><p>“Ha ha, very funny. We sorta got caught in the snow last night, so I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the fucking integrity of my sweater.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh! You’re right! It must not have been the ideal night for a walk, hm?” Letting out a laugh at Friend’s expression, he nudged heads with him before slipping out of his hold and floating down to Technoblade. “Do you have any old Arctic Empire cloaks we could borrow?”</p><p> </p><p>“First my tea and now my clothing? Ghostbur, you can’t just keep stealing all my stuff! Y- You come in here, barging in unannounced, and you just steal everything! You’re worse than Tommy!” What the fuck was going on? Technoblade was pretty much growling, yet he couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face. Turning, he began to rummage silently through a chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Techno. Come on Friend!”</p><p> </p><p>He seemed to trail behind Ghostbur an awful lot, but the guy was all over the fucking place at times, and he would get into trouble if he didn’t have someone looking out for him. That being said, he got into plenty of trouble with Friend there, usually as a direct result of said ghosts’ appearance. Sometimes the pull of mischief was just too strong to ignore. Plus, Goggles deserved most of the what he got - if he didn’t want and trouble, he shouldn’t have worn those stupid clout glasses.</p><p> </p><p>That was besides the point though, how much of a hoarder was this guy? There were rows upon rows of chests pushed against the wall, filled to the brim with junk. One was entirely full of flowers for gods sake, pressed delicately in cases. There probably weren't many opportunities to find plants and shit in this frozen wasteland, but wasn’t an entire chest a little excessive?</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur was rummaging around nearby, humming as he did. It was calming, even if the melody was probably some pretentious British song he had picked up. Hell, sometimes Loverboy wrote his own songs, which always ended up in some fucking weird lyrics. Who even sings about a twitch chat?</p><p> </p><p>A sudden weight was thrown at Friend, causing him to bleat in surprise. What the fuck?</p><p> </p><p>Oh. A warm blue cloak rested on his shoulders, the white fur collar brushing against his face. “There you go! You can use my old clothes! I’m a little too tall for them now, but they seem to fit you. I’ll use Techno’s old things in the meantime.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s that supposed to mean? You calling me short, tall-ass?” Another bundle of clothes was thrown in his direction in response. “Alright, fine, I get it. What, do you guys like blue or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“It was the old uniforms we had when Phil had the Arctic Empire! Back on a different SMP that is, he used to say it was safer when we blended in with the landscape. You’d be surprised how blue the Arctic is!” </p><p>Letting out a sigh, he investigated the musty clothes, listening to the rustle of fabric before moving his gaze back to Ghostbur, who was already in full garb. The guy looked spiffy, he could say that at least. What a fucking idiot. It was a little big in the shoulders (it was previously owned by Technoblade after all, that fucker was built like a brick wall) and the entire outfit was creased to hell and back, but it worked. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend, why haven’t you changed yet? I can’t imagine you’d be very comfortable with your sweater so ripped,” Ghostbur seemed concerned, floating closer to him, before being swatted away.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey- hey calm down, I will. You seem awfully eager to get me naked.” Twitching his ears, he gathered up the spare clothes before taking a hold of Ghostbur. “Loverboy, go incorporeal.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why-”</p><p> </p><p>He made sure that he had listened before grabbing Ghostbur by the torso. There wasn’t any protest from the other, aside from a growing look of confusion. In response, Friend gave him the friendliest, most innocent smile he could muster. </p><p> </p><p>Right before he tossed Ghostbur through the ceiling. </p><p> </p><p>It was probably some of the funniest shit he had seen all day, the sight of the spectral rapidly phasing through the hardwood and into the beyond. The guy might have even gone to the attic, considering the squeal of surprise that followed (likely Technoblade, which was even funnier), and the loud “Why hello Techno!” </p><p> </p><p>With Ghostbur no longer in the room, he felt comfortable enough to actually change clothes. How fucking tall had Ghostbur - Wilbur? - been when he was a kid? The shirt was fucking long, the cloack tended to drag, and it smelled like dust and poker cards after being left in a box for too long. Sighing, he phased up, same way Loverboy had gone, his mouth a thin line (no he was not fucking pouting).</p><p> </p><p>“Friend! You look so nice!! The blue really suits you!” </p><p> </p><p>“I was wearing blue before?” He gently knocked heads with him, wondering if Ghostbur’s chronic amnesia had somehow gotten to shit that had happened like ten minutes ago. Ghostbur, fully oblivious to Friend’s confusion, struck up a friendly chat with Technoblade.</p><p> </p><p>“So Techno, what’s on the itinerary today? Taking over the world again?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, did that once, ended up being too much work. I was planning on visiting the villagers today actually, I need more gear, and I have plenty of potatoes to sell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we come with?” Ghostbur pleaded, with those stupid puppy eyes. Technoblade nodded in response. Of course Ghostbur was the only one who could get away with that shit. Gathering the uncomfortably trailing cloak, Friend joined everyone as they set out on their little “journey” to diet-capitalism some villagers.</p><p>______________________________________________________________________________</p><p> </p><p>They had broken off from Techno in order to see what the market had to offer, wandering the snowy village. Their new cloaks kept out the chill though, as well as any stray snowflakes. He supposed it did pay to wear something more suited to the weather, even if Ghostbur kept making fucking jokes about his height. It wasn’t his fault that he was shorter! He couldn’t have been this short when he was alive, could he? </p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur had been the one to insist that him and Friend go shopping, which of course meant that Friend would have to barter. Ghostbur would not be getting ripped off on his watch; at least, not while he had a conman as his right hand man. His companion was sappy as shit, that was for sure. One sad look and Ghostbur would be forking over their emeralds to whoever asked him - puppy eyes worked both ways with this guy.</p><p> </p><p>It was odd, falling back into his bargaining ways. Technoblade had given Ghostbur five emeralds to spend however they liked, which wasn't much, as these villagers liked to rip people off almost as much as they liked bread. It was like they were kids being given pocket change, which was fucking embarrassing, but at least Ghostbur was happy. </p><p> </p><p>For a small village, it had a surprising amount of things to sell. Knicknacks, armor, cheap food -  you look for it, it was probably there somewhere. His eyes flickered over golden trinkets, a vain part of him wishing that he could simply buy out the merchant’s entire stock. He had always looked so intimidating in gold, he recalled, with a mixed bag of pride and disgust. Or perhaps, the alcohol, bottles shining in the afternoon sun, calling out to him temptingly. Just one little sip wouldn’t be <em>so</em> bad, right?</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t like who he was when he was drunk. He never wanted to go back to who he was, never wanted to step into that festering pile of skin and sentience. Suddenly the gold looked too bright and brash. He didn’t want to look intimidating, all he wanted was to be forgi-</p><p> </p><p>Forcing his eyes to move away from the vices, he slipped his hand back into Ghostbur’s, gripping ever so lightly. He knew that he wouldn’t hurt him, even though he probably could, but it was always better safe than sorry. </p><p> </p><p>A small stand, blending in with the chaos of the market, suddenly commanded Friend’s attention; behind it, a temporary greenhouse, full of flowers and ferns alike. He couldn’t even name half of them, draping vines and blooming flowers filling up the case. Had they been anywhere else, it would have attracted half the bees in the area, considering how strong it smelled even from here.</p><p> </p><p>Bees… </p><p> </p><p>Tubbo had always liked bees. </p><p> </p><p>Did Ghostbur like plants? It said in his memory book they made flower crowns together, and that they had pressed them and shit before they wilted. So he would probably like a plant, right? Maybe something small, something that didn’t need much light in their little underground home. One of them would remember to water it, there was two of them after all, it couldn’t be that fucking hard for something so small. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend?”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur’s voice snapped Friend out of his thoughts, swiveling to look back at him. “Yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been staring at those plants for a while now! Did you want to check them out?” There was a gentle squeeze at his hand, Ghostbur’s smile seemingly flickering for a moment. Was he worrying him? </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Figured we could get some goddamn life in our house, since both of us are dead and all. You like plants and shit, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Of course! Can I choose which one we get? You know, Techno always talks about how I should take up gardening-” </p><p> </p><p>After much bargaining with the shopkeeper, they (meaning Friend exclusively) managed to whittle down the price to two emeralds for a small cactus plant. Why Loverboy had chosen a cactus, he wasn’t exactly sure. He just hoped the fucker didn’t prick his fingers on it all the time, he was already attempting to stroke the damn thing. Friend decided that he would be in charge of holding it while they continued to walk around the market. </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade was going to get impatient if they didn’t meet up with him at the designated area soon, and as much as Friend loathed tearing Ghostbur away from something like this, he considered saving his life - er, death - a slightly higher priority. Friend was about to suggest that they come back a different day or something when Loverboy gasped, dragging him over to one of the junky trinket stalls. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend! Look! They have name tags!”</p><p> </p><p>“...Yeah? You planning on buying a chicken or something? I don’t think we got enough for a whole ass animal, but I suppose we could ask-”</p><p> </p><p>“No! Not for an animal silly! Here, hand me the emeralds.” His grin somehow managed to rival the fucking sun, bright and childish. He wasn’t exactly sure what Ghostbur was planning, but he reluctantly forked over the emeralds. They needed to get going soon anyways, and if he was finally picking something out, then they could head back to Technoblade before the guy came for their asses. </p><p> </p><p>Friend watched curiously as the other ghost spoke with the villager, garbled language sifting through his ears. He had talked to (or rather, threatened) his fair share of villagers, but it was odd hearing someone else speaking the language so fluently. Even if “fluently” still meant sounding like a dying cow.</p><p> </p><p>The shopkeeper handed Ghostbur a thin silver chain with a leather name tag hanging off the end. It was much more fancy than what three emeralds should have gotten him (a fact which sparked a little pride in Friend), and why the fuck would he get a chain? A silver one no less? That would be too big for any animal he could reasonably get, unless he was planning on giving it to Technoblade. The thought almost made Friend chuckle. Even with their blood-bond or whatever, Technoblade would no doubt have to turn it down.</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur suddenly turned back to him, eyes alight. “Here!”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh… you want me to hold it, or...?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s for you! Look, it's got your name on it and everything!” Ghostbur slipped it over his head, gently leaning against him as he did. “That way, you can remember your name without somebody having to tell you!”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah.” He wasn’t going to cry. The day had been weird enough, and if he fucking cried in the middle of this fucking village his eyes would still be puffy by the time he got back to Technoblade and his flashy language and shit. Mark his words, he was not going to fucking cry. “Thanks. It's a really nice gift Ghostbur.”</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t end up bawling into Ghostbur’s side from the sheer rush of appreciation. Nope. Not in the fucking slightest. </p><p> </p><p>Or at least that’s what he would tell Technoblade when they got back. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Short Glatt is canon here, you can pry that headcanon from my cold, dead hands &gt;:0<br/>Also YOOOOOOO TECHNOBRO HAS JOINED THE CHAT HOW WE FEELING<br/>My beta reader always refuses to let me have 'Techie' as a nickname for Techno smh, says that its not in Ghostbur's character. Personally, I think its wonderful, but hey, they ARE beta reading for me so I'll let it slide.</p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Bees, Building, and Bewilderment - Oh My! (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*takes a long sip of coffee*<br/>I'm very tired. On the other hand, hey! Tubbo content anyone? I know you guys were asking about Puffy, but I promise she'll be here later, don't worry about it. In the meantime, enjoy the dadschlatt :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something about napping on the glass roof of the bee apiary that felt very odd. Not unpleasant, of course! Just odd. Though, if he was bee-ing honest (heh, Friend would like that one when he woke up), they’d certainly fallen asleep in stranger locations before, plus, it was rather nice listening to the hum off the honeybees instead of the harsh sounds of machinery. And the sun was so nice and warm this early in the morning! Judging by the soft snores beside him, Friend thought the same way, head resting against Ghostbur’s chest. His eyes began to close, settling down, the sun’s warmth seeming to lull him to sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That was, before an ear-splitting caterwaul shook him alert.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“FUNDY GIVE ME BACK MY TIE!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That sounded an awful lot like… Tubbo! And his son must be there too! Was he here for a visit? The notice must not have come through on his communicator - surely he had messaged him that he was here! Or perhaps he had forgotten. Ghostbur had problems with that too, no doubt, so he understood if that was the case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Curious, he pulled himself up off the roof, leaving Friend for the moment in pursuit of what all the fuss was about. Something about a tie? Why would Tubbo have a tie? He supposed Tubbo was president now; he recalled the fancy, formal dress that he himself used to wear. But Tubbo, he usually wore a bandana, like Tommy! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The loud arguing grew louder and louder as Ghostbur stepped closer, until he came upon… only Tubbo? Ghostbur glanced around, but he saw no sign of another person having ever been there. Who was Tubbo arguing with, then?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oy! Tubbo!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo, who had previously been mumbling to himself, turned quickly towards him, a tired smile breaking across his face (how had he gotten that tired? He was only seventeen, yet the weight of the world seemed to drag on him). </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello Ghostbur! You seem to have caught me at a uh, a bad time. I probably don’t look very, uh,  professional at the moment, all things considered. What’s up?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I heard you yelling for Fundy, and he hasn’t been back recently, so I was hoping to talk to him! Do you happen to know where he ran off to this time?” Linking his hands behind his back, he began to rock on his heels, eyes out for a flash of orange fox ears. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, he raced off before you got here. He still had my tie, too!” Tubbo let out a sigh, futzing with his collar. “I think he started up a house somewhere, uh, out in the desert.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would he do that? His home is here, in L’Manburg!” That wasn’t like Fundy. Why would he move out, when his house was plenty good? Sure, it was a little dusty (Ghostbur hadn’t gotten around to cleaning it this week yet), but the structure was good, and it was where his family was!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No clue. Anyways, do you think you could help me out with something? I think everyone else is out today, so I don’t really have anyone else to ask.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, I’m always happy to help! What’d’ya need help with?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Could you help me collect wood? And stone? I need it for a uh… project. Yeah, a project of mine.” He paused. “So, d’ya think you can help me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure! Let me go grab Friend!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who is-” Ghostbur didn’t catch the end of his sentence, as he was already off towards the bee apiary. Friend would be so excited! This would be the perfect chance for Friend and Tubbo to finally meet one another!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Floating up to the roof, Ghostbur shook Friend’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him up, only to be met with a light swat at his side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend! You gotta get up! Naptime is over!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sleeping, please leave your message nowhere at the fucking beep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Giggling, Ghostbur dragged him up anyways, accompanied by a loud groan of protest. “Come on! I promised someone we’d help him out!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What fuck asks for help in the middle of the day?” Straightening out his recently-repaired sweater, and checking that his nametag was still around his neck, Friend turned to look at him. His eyes were unfocused, but he was awake nonetheless!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I wouldn’t call him that, but if you must know, Tubbo asked!” He had already begun to tug him towards where he had last seen Tubbo, only to be met with… resistance? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uhhhh, Friend?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you, did you say Tubbo?” It was barely a whisper, Friend’s dark eyes widening in… surprise? Apprehension? He wasn’t sure, but it was probably out of surprise - Tubbo was normally very busy.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep! He needs help getting resources! He said it’s for a project he’s working on!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was some muttering in response, too soft for Ghostbur to make out, more than a few words - like ‘remember’ and ‘hope’ - before he gave Ghostbur a determined nod. “Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Excited and oblivious, he failed to notice the way Friend’s voice seemed to waver even with the short response, simply leading him hand-in-hand through L’Manburg to Tubbo. Hopefully they wouldn’t need to go fight any mobs. Ghostbur hadn’t exactly kept up with any combat skills since his afterlife began, so he wouldn’t be too of much help there. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur was a little more than confused when, after finally meeting Tubbo at their designated meeting spot, he found Tubbo and Friend in a stare off - an incredulous look on Tubbo’s face, and an almost withdrawn expression on Friend’s. Ghostbur piped up, hoping to clear the air between the two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tubbo, this is Friend! He’s a ghost, and he doesn’t remember much unfortunately, but, uh... he seems to remember you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remember… <em>me</em>?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course! Though, I don’t know how-” Before Ghostbur could say anything else, Friend quickly elbowed him in the side, out of sight from Tubbo. Oh, how rude of Ghostbur! Friend probably wanted to introduce himself - he should have asked beforehand!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo spoke slowly in that odd, serious tone of his, “ ...So I wasn’t imagining things. He really is back.” Wait, what? Did Tubbo already meet Friend? No, he couldn’t’ve, Friend hadn’t said anything about it. It must be Tubbo thinking that he’s Alive-Friend! A lot of people seemed to make that mistake. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh dear, Ghostbur should probably do something before this becomes too sad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are here to help!” He spat out, words rushed and enthusiastic. Smiling wider, he turned to look at the ghost beside him, tugging at his arm. “Say hello silly!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, uh, kid,” He seemed to wince, the three of them acutely aware of the way that Friend’s voice shook. It was okay though, everyone had jitters sometimes! It was probably the nerves of meeting someone you remembered - Ghostbur knew that feeling well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was a very… stiff conversation for two people who seemed to know each other, at least partly. Should he say something? Not that it seemed to help last time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So um, you said you needed help with some resources or shit?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yep.” Tubbo, seemingly on instinct, popped the ‘p’, and began fiddling with his collar. “Trees and shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah. Trees.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur was definitely going to have to take control of this conversation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, we might as well get to work!” He’d try and get them to talk to one another later, while they were resource-hunting. It would be easier, and hopefully the air wouldn’t be as tense as it was currently. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Whatever he had done seemed to snap Tubbo out of his funk for the moment. “Oh, right. We need to get a couple logs, and uh, some stone as well. We need to man an anvil too, but I think I have enough iron for that. Oh, and honey! But we can get that from the bees. I have some spare axes that you two can use, if you need ‘em.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do we have any axes?” Ghostbur turned to look over at Friend, who (after flipping through his memory book) responded with a shrug. “Then yes, it would be lovely if we could borrow some of yours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the tools were gathered, the three set out towards the forest, conversation mainly carried by Tubbo and Ghostbur. Why Tubbo was so reserved around Friend, Ghostbur wasn’t sure, but he hoped they would warm up to each other soon! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a little tough swinging the axe around at the trees, and he couldn’t help but be impressed with how well Friend was handling it. Despite his shorter stature, he seemed to be having a fairly easy time felling the trees, not to mention moving the logs after. Tubbo also seemed to notice. His eyes would sometimes dart over to Friend, and then down at his own arms, before he continued hacking away at the tree stump. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They had only gotten about twenty minutes in before Ghostbur could pick up the hushed sound of another one of Friend’s lullabies. He had taken a nap hadn’t he? He couldn’t be tired enough that he was singing out of exhaustion then. Oh, but the only other time he sang was when he was following along with Ghostbur, or when was sad! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he pondered how that could be, he failed to notice Tubbo’s head shoot up in surprise, eyes wide. It was only he nearly dropped his axe that Ghostbur turned his attention over to him. “Are you alright, Tubbo?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moment he asked that, he heard the singing halt abruptly. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Friend asked panickedly. He hurried to throw down his own tool, giving Tubbo his full attention. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, not at all, I just,” Letting out an awkward laugh, Tubbo’s hands began to mess with the cuffs of his sleeves, avoiding eye contact. “The song, that you were uh, singing before. I don’t know how, but it sounded sorta... familiar. I’m not even sure how that would be. I can’t remember how I learned it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a harsh intake of breath as Friend seemed to steady himself, ears twitching. Funny, he only really did that when he was anxious. Ghostbur piped up, “That’s a bit unusual. Though, I guess I don’t remember how I learned most of the songs I know now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you happen to remember the um, the name? Of the song?” Tubbo was speaking very tentatively and slowly now, like a snail or turtle. Oh, and he was green like one! He’d have to tell that to Tubbo later.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid, I don’t think that song ever had a name to begin with.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That was strange. Didn’t most songs have some form of name? Not to mention that he had only ever heard that song sung by Friend. So that meant… </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend, is that your own song?” Sure, he had heard Friend hum little inconsistent melodies while he was writing, but his own song?? Ghostbur was so proud of him!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For some reason, however, neither Tubbo nor Friend seemed to be as enthusiastic as he was. Friend, ignoring the question, turned back to his work as Tubbo worked to spit out the line that seemed to claw at the back of his throat. “Wait, Schl- I mean, Friend, sing another line!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You sure kid? Wouldn’t think you’d want to listen to this fucked up voice of mine.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A deep sigh was his response, before he began to sing again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh little, lamb of mine, how you go, make my heart shine…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo seemed to hold his breath while Friend sang, which was a little worrisome; unlike the two ghosts, he did, in fact, need to breathe! Was there something Ghostbur was missing? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...though I may be, less than divine, I’m glad that you’re here, with me.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quietly, he could hear Tubbo beginning to hum along, though the tune wasn’t as uniform as Friend’s. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh little, lamb of mine. Even if I say, you’re a thorn in my side…” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leaned up against one of the tree trunks as he watched Tubbo’s eyes grow wider, mouth becoming more and more confident as it found its way around the lyrics of the song. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re the best, part of my life… my little honey bee.” Friend fell silent at the last line, mirroring Tubbo in how he was futzing with his clothing, like it was a lifeline. It was moments like these where Ghostbur wasn’t entirely sure if he should say anything, he didn’t want to make anything worse than it already was. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“ ...Ring any bells Tubbs?” Nervously, Friend took a small step towards Tubbo, as if he were trying to coax a spooked animal. Wait… wasn’t he technically an animal himself? A sheep, if he was remembering correctly - and Tubbo was a sheep as well! He had those floppy ears, and the little nub horns, and-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo was standing there in utter silence. This was very out of the ordinary for him (even if he wasn’t as much of a chatterbox as Tommy) - usually he was <em>much</em> louder than this. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>This wouldn’t do at all! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Tubbo! What’s this big project that you’re working on?” Abruptly killing the silence, he decided it would probably be best if they stayed away from… whatever was happening here. All it did was make things much more quiet than they needed to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, huh? The project?” Whatever had been bothering Tubbo was gone now, as he turned back to the pile of logs beside them. “Oh yeah! It’s a uh, public work, we were going to set it up before the festival happened.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this enough logs, then?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it should be enough. We might need to make multiple tri-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I um, I got it kid.” Friend’s voice cut in before Tubbo could finish his sentence, his voice surprisingly timid. His face screwed up in concentration before the logs shakily began to float around them. He had gotten so much better at doing that! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Visibly confused but choosing not to ask questions, Tubbo led them back towards L’Manburg to where the structure was supposed to be built. By the time they crossed the border, Friend was beginning to stagger. Maybe carrying an entire stack of logs in one go was pushing it a little, Ghostbur worried. But thankfully, they only had to walk a few more steps before Tubbo gestured to Friend to put the logs down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jesus Christ. How big is this fucking project of yours?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I wouldn’t necessarily call it big, more like… tall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, what other shit do we need to do?” Friend’s hand ran through his hair, grimacing slightly. What was Friend doing? He had probably overworked himself already! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend I think you should sit down-” Ghostbur could barely get his two-cents in before he was cut off. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m fine Loverboy. It’s just a lot s’all. Any other crap you need moved?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Giving a shake of his head, Tubbo directed Ghostbur on what else they needed to set up, and soon enough all three set out to assemble… whatever it was that Tubbo was working on!</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a little confusing why there was so much honey involved. It coated their hands like Blue, but so much stickier, and without any consequence; well, other than the stray pieces of fuzz and grass that clung to his fingers. Not even Friend - who had been adamant about not touching the honey - was immune to it… mainly due to Tubbo and Ghostbur chasing him until he tripped and fell into the honey blocks. Friend had to sit in his undershirt for a while as Tubbo and Ghostbur cleaned his sweater, apologizing between fits of giggles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By now, the project had really come together! Ghostbur still wasn’t entirely sure what the contraption was (much less the redstone Tubbo had set up for it), but it was nearly finished! They just needed to move this anvil to the top! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The problem was, it was heavy. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Very heavy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Not to mention, where they needed to move it was about five hundred meters above the ground - the plank they needed to set it upon was just a small dot in the sky. But that was, well, very high! Sure, Tubbo could build a really tall ladder, or Ghostbur could try and drag it up there, but there was no certain way to know that it wouldn’t just fall and cause a crater in the floorboards. After all, Ghostbur wasn’t particularly well-known for being able to maintain a state of corporealness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While Tubbo and Ghostbur contemplated how to move a two hundred kilo anvil, Friend had gotten up from his spot, stretching out his arms. “Alright cucks, since neither of you can figure it out, I’ll just do it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both Ghostbur and Tubbo began to giggle at his antics. Oh, Friend was always so good at cracking jokes to cheer him up! “Friend, I think this may be too big for you to lift. And there’s nothing wrong with that! It’s just, that is way too-” Ghostbur trailed off, continuing to giggle as he was met with an irritated look. “-way too heavy for you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine then. How much you wanna bet that I can in fact lift this huge fucking thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend, we live together, there’s not much that I could bet-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay then, what about letting me finally read ‘How To Sex 2’ then? You keep a fucking tight grip on that book for something that you keep in a semi public library.” An amused grin danced at the corners of Friend’s lips. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fine. Be careful though! You’ve already used a lot of energy on everything else, I don’t want you hurting yourself.” Crossing his arms, Ghostbur mimicked his expression. He didn't necessarily doubt Friend’s abilities, but he was a little… skeptical about them, especially with all the work he had done earlier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rolling up his sleeves, Friend shot the two of them a look, both of them still staring bemusedly. There was no way that he could lift that-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, apparently, there was! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>With much difficulty, Friend managed to heft the anvil - which had to be dragged here -  into his arms, steadily rising as he smiled maniacally at them. He didn’t say anything despite his success though, and even from here Ghostbur could tell that if he was human, the hard clench of his jaw certainly would have certainly hurt him by now. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo and Ghostbur watched in stunned silence as Friend set the anvil up at the very top, letting out a whoop of excitement. He really did it!</p>
<p>Right before dropping to the ground like a rock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Friend!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Schlatt!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>On instinct, Ghostbur raced over to him, dropping quickly to the ground beside him. He didn’t seem to be injured, despite the fall (and his faintly flickering form). He was okay. Friend was a ghost, so he had to be okay, right??</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tubbo joined Ghostbur, worry etched across his face as he looked at Friend, who was switching rapidfire between corporeal and incorporeal. Was that supposed to happen??</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A grunt cleared the worry from both of their faces. Groggily, Friend looked up at the two of them, and despite his fall from the heavens, he gave the two of them a smug smile. “I <em>told</em> you guys I could do it! Ghostbur you owe me… uh, whatever I bet. My head’s fucking spinning like a table top.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Um, Friend, table tops don’t spin.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? Then why the fuck would they call them table tops?” He seemed almost offended by this news, expression morphing into a look of confusion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That… was an actually good question! Why did they call them that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guys, guys I think it’s because it's the top of the table. Not because it’s like a spinning top.” Tubbo chimed in. Ghostbur watched the tension leave his shoulders at the sight of Friend alive - or, well, undead - and well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like we were cheated out of spinning tables. It would make moving shit so much easier!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though Friend swore up and down that he was fine to keep working, Ghostbur insisted that he took a bit of a lie down, Friend poking fun at the stereotypicalness of Ghostbur’s very British politeness. At least his form had finally stabilized, letting Ghostbur easily move him into a position comfortable enough that he could carry him. “Tubbo, as much fun as this is, I think we’re all tuckered out for today. Good luck with your project!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah… thanks for helping me out with that. I hope Sch-, uh, I mean, <em>Friend</em>, feels better. Maybe I’ll, uh, stop by later. See how he’s doing ‘n all.” For some reason, Tubbo’s face flashed with… well, something, the moment that Ghostbur brought up the project again. He must just be tired! He hoped that Tubbo would take a short rest, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sure he’d enjoy that very much. We’ll be off!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Heading back to the sewer, he swore he could faintly hear Friend say “bye little lamb,” though it may have just been his silly brain making things up. After all, by the time Friend had (supposedly) said his goodbye, he had already knocked himself out and was fast asleep in Ghostbur’s arms. He wasn’t entirely sure why that was his goodbye to Tubbo, but Friend was very tired, and he wasn’t about to wake Friend up just to ask him about it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he happened to write down today’s events in his own memory book when they got home, it wasn’t for any reason in particular - helping Tubbo with projects like that was not something particularly out of the ordinary. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But who’s to say it wasn’t important?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Glatt is shorter than Ghostbur but indefinitely more strong, no I do not take critisism. My beta reader may make fun of me for it, but they ALSO call me a simp on the daily while being a simp themselves, so take THAT!</p>
<p>Heads up for next chapter btw, its not necessarily gorey, but it does involve fighting, blackmail, and uhhhh blood. If you figured out what these folks were building, it'll give you a hint of where we are in canon ;)</p>
<p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Girl Help The Butcher Army Is Trying To Kill Technoblade P. 1 (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This late chapter brought to you by: 'I fell asleep for 3 hours and when I woke up, realized I still had things to do' TM</p><p>So before I get into this at all, I wanna say something, just to get it out in the open. If you don't wanna hear about the IRL content creator discourse, but still want the chapter info and trigger warnings, check back in after the big line.</p><p>I do not endorse JSchlatt as a content creator. His recent video was a mockery of several marginalized communities, and even if he changed the thumbnail, the content within the video itself was extremely hurtful and offensive. I questioned discontinuing this fic after I heard the news, because of how upset I was. After speaking with my beta reader on this, I have decided that I will be continuing this, due to it being specifically character Schlatt, as well as it being my personal headcanons on his dsmp character, less of the canon character himself. Just wanted to clear that up so you guys are aware of my stance on the issue.<br/>_____________________________________________________</p><p>NOW THAT THAT'S OUT OF THE WAY, this chapter was so long, that it's split up into two parts. Horrayyyyyyyy. This one was a monster to write, mainly because of all the scenery changes involved plotwise, so it took me like....twenty pages for this single chapter to fit all the canon lore in.<br/>Tw for this chapter are what you can expect. Blood, fighting, injuries, near death, blackmailing, but ALSO, Aquaphobia (otherwise known as the fear of water). The aquaphobia part is kinda short, but I thought I'd include it in the trigger warnings just in case. If you wanna skip it, it's from "His body felt numb as even the tingles had long-since left him." to about "God, the shoreline!" Let's just say no one has a fun time in this chapter :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Something was off. </p><p> </p><p>Whether it was some weird ass hybrid sixth sense, or it was the feeling of a storm on the horizon, something bad was going to happen today, and Friend sure as hell didn’t want him or Ghostbur to be around for it. They dealt with enough on a daily basis, they didn’t need anything other shit to deal with. </p><p> </p><p>So when Ghostbur had told him that he was going to visit Technoblade, despite the fact that the guy was a fucking prick, he thought that maybe it would a bit better than staying in L’Manburg. He didn’t exactly know what was up with the place right now, but it felt as if the air was laced with electricity. And like any sensible living - er, at least, once-living - creature, he knew to get the fuck out of there, even if it meant visiting a very smug piglin hybrid. After all, Technoblade lived in the middle of fucking nowhere; there was no better place to go if you wanted to avoid conflict. </p><p> </p><p>Or, at least, that’s what he thought. </p><p> </p><p>The moment the two of them phased through the wall, they caught an eyeball-full of Technoblade, the oh so fucking mighty, brewing potions and muttering to himself like a maniac. He didn’t even seem to notice that either of them had entered. The acrid smell of boiling nether wart mingling with all other manners of potion ingredients was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach, even in the absence of a physical one. What the fuck is going on?</p><p> </p><p>“Hello Techno!” Ghostbur, cheery as usual, clearly hadn’t gotten the memo that something was wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Techno snapped back,“First off Ghostbur, right now is a terrible time, an absolutely terrible time for a visit.” The guy didn’t look away from his potions for a second, hurriedly throwing different ingredients and shit into the different glass vials, cloven hooves pacing back and forth on the dark wood. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi Edward, lovely to see you,” Ghostbur chirped, addressing the elephant - or rather, enderman - in the room, “Well, we were on our way to visit you and-” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just a <em> little bit busy right now Ghostbur!</em>” </p><p> </p><p>Ok first off, that was fucking rude. He might be in a pissy fit but that didn’t mean he had to be rude to Ghostbur. He was practically ‘Casper the Friendly Ghost’ for fuck’s sake, you don’t just brush him off!</p><p>“What’s got your panties in such a twist, Technoblade?” Might as well make sure his own presence is also known, he didn’t want an axe thrown his way later, like all the other times he somehow managed to catch Technoblade off guard.</p><p> </p><p>“Friend, I really don’t have time for you right now, you really oughta take Ghostbur and <em>get out of here.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur still seemed put out at that answer, beginning to mess with the hem of his bright yellow sweater. “Well, can we help?”</p><p> </p><p>“How good are you at violence?” Techno spared the two of them a quick glance, his face stricken with panic, before turning back to brewing. “Nevermind, I already know the answer. At least for Ghostbur.”</p><p> </p><p>Even when he was rushing around like a maniac, he still managed to throw a jab at Friend. </p><p> </p><p>Figures. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you need some blue, Techno? Here, calm yourself, have some blue.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur, I don’t really have time for Blue right now-”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure? Everyone needs some Blue every once in a while. You seem like you really need it, considering you’re in such a tizzy at the moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, considering that I’ve been told that there’s like, <em>four dudes coming to kill me,</em> I don’t exactly think I’m able to be calm in a situation like this!”  </p><p> </p><p>Okay, wow. This was certainly new information. How the hell had the supposedly-retired Technoblade managed to piss off a whole bunch of people this time? Reluctantly searching into his memory, Friend recalled people often becoming a victim of Technobalde’s wrath, but rarely ever the other way around. Ghostbur seemed to share this sentiment.</p><p> </p><p>“Why would they come and kill you? You haven’t done anything wrong!” </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade didn’t answer. Both him and Friend knew how Ghostbur... reacted to this kind of stuff. It was better he didn’t know. </p><p> </p><p>In the silence of that moment, Techno seemed to temporarily snap out of the potion-making-haze he was in, turning to the two ghosts before setting his hands on their shoulders. “Okay look, it’s great that you came to visit me, that’s wonderful, but you both have to get out of here. I don’t know what they’re gonna do to either of you, and I don’t fully know what they plan on doing with me. But they are certainly not going to be nice. I can almost guarantee that.”</p><p> </p><p>Technoblade was right - they needed to leave. Technoblade could certainly handle his own fucking self, if the amount of brewing, armor, and the weapons wasn’t enough to tip them off. Call Friend a coward, but he knew that whoever was trying to kill this guy was most likely going to find the tables turned on them. Might as well avoid the crossfire. </p><p> </p><p>“You want me to leave?” Of fucking course Ghostbur would use his kicked-puppy voice right now, of course he would. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, that motherfucker. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh-”</p><p> </p><p>“I can go far away, would it be easier for you if I went far away?”</p><p> </p><p>Technoblade stepped back from the two of them, pinching the bridge of his nose in what could either be exasperation, or desperation. “Look Ghostbur, I just want you to be safe.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m always safe though!”</p><p> </p><p>Immediately, both Friend and Techno tried to interject, only to be cut off by Ghostbur continuing his line of reasoning. “Well, it's true! What are they gonna do, double kill me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy that’s not really the point-” “Ghostbur you really can’t just-”</p><p> </p><p>In the midst of this weird jinx-situation, Friend saw Ghostbur’s dawn with realization as he finally understood… at least whatever Technoblade was asking of them. “Okay Techno! Me and Friend will be over here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, could you go hide over a hill or something? Just, far away from here would be best, but if you’re gonna stay, at least not be in plain sight, just-” Groaning, Techno rummaged through one of his several chests, pulling out a lead and tying the two ends around Ghostbur’s and Friend’s hands. “-here. Friend at least has some self preservation, so have him take you somewhere safe. And I’m saying this not because I like Friend, I’m saying this because I know you’re going to end up falling in a pit without him there to stop you.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Ghostbur could linger any longer, Friend pulled him out the door, hurrying like there was a fifty percent-off sale and he was one of those fucking extreme couponers. There was no way in hell that he was letting the two of them stick around here. </p><p> </p><p>“Friend, I don’t think it’s best to leave Techno to deal with this by himself…”</p><p> </p><p>Sighing, he stole a glance at Ghostbur, still maintaining his pace. “The guy can handle himself, I’m pretty sure there’s not much we could do to help anyways. We’d just end up distracting him. You don’t want him to be worried about you while he’s fighting, do you?” </p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean ‘worried about you’? Don’t’cha mean worried about us?”</p><p> </p><p>“No matter who he’s worrying about, the more time he spends worrying, the more distracted he’ll be.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur seemed to contemplate this, his unbound hand already reaching in his pocket for his Blue. God, this must be a fucking nightmare for him, if he was already turning to that shit for comfort. Friend didn’t know what kind of drug that stuff was, and the whole situation created a burning feeling of twisted nostalgia in his chest. The need for a substance to subside the misery, mindlessly gravitating towards it, never able to go anywhere without it. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed Ghostbur’s free hand before it could dip into his pocket.</p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy, look. Techno is gonna be okay, alright? We just need to make ourselves less of a distraction while he deals with… uh, this. Then afterward, I’ll put on the fucking kettle you always bitch to me about using, and we can have tea, okay?” He hoped that his voice was convincing enough, or at least soothing enough, to calm the other ghost’s nerves. </p><p> </p><p>“...Can we use the nice earl gray?”</p><p> </p><p>“We can use as much of Techno’s fancy-ass earl grey as you want. Now, please, we need to keep going.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur gave him a nod, allowing Friend to tug him along, the two specters flickering between the trees in the dimming light. Maybe they’d avoid the conflict for once. Maybe this time, Friend would actually have a shot at living a peaceful life, at leaving the idea of conflict itself behind.</p><p> </p><p>But of course, that seemed to be too much to ask for. </p><p> </p><p>Because waltzing right through the fucking foilage was four men, netherite armor glinting with enchantments, voices called out in malice.  </p><p> </p><p>And Friend was pretty sure he knew at least two of them.</p><p> </p><p>The crunching of the snow and mocking jeers stopped abruptly as the men turned their attention to the two ghosts. Not even the trees dared to whisper. For a second, it felt as if the world around them had simply stopped.</p><p> </p><p>And then… </p><p> </p><p>“Hello?” Tubbo, never a fan of awkward silences, spoke first.</p><p> </p><p>Quackity piped up as well. “Schlatt? And… Wilbur?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s Ghostbur, actually! And Friend! Hello Quackity! Hello Tubbo! Hello Ranboo, and hello my son! It’s nice to see you out playing with your friends!” Of fucking course Ghostbur would say hello to the men (and children, what the fuck? Who let these kids in here?) who smelled suspiciously of blood.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, uh, what- what are you guys doing here?” Quackity stumbled through the words. Was he still that caught off-guard? Jesus.  </p><p> </p><p>“Well, Dream told us that Tommy’s party was on a different day, and then to take a walk in the snow, and so I thought, ‘while we’re taking a walk, why not visit Techno?’”</p><p> </p><p>The mere mention of the pig hybrid was enough to rile the group further. At least, most of them. Ramble looked as if he wanted to be just about anywhere else, and honestly? Friend couldn’t blame him. </p><p> </p><p>“And we just sorta kept coming back to see him, and we just finished visiting him, so we were going to head home because he said that you four are coming to kill him! I don’t know why that is!” Ghostbur continued, beginning to step closer to the makeshift militia or whatever they were, before Friend swiftly tugged him back. </p><p> </p><p>Wow, way to give all of their information away. Friend wasn’t even sure how Ghostbur managed to remember that… interaction with Dream, the guy practically threatened the both of them to hand over the invitations before tridenting away like the fucking cunt he is. Wasn’t that a bad memory? Maybe he’d bring that up with Ghostbur later. Right now, it was his turn to ask questions.</p><p> </p><p> “Why are the four of you fucking covered in netherite?” </p><p> </p><p>“We’re gonna fucking kill Technoblade.”</p><p> </p><p>A chorus of affirmation rang out following the blunt statement, loud and obnoxious. If he hadn’t seen the frenzied look in all their eyes (except Ramble, why the fuck did they bring him), he would have thought that they were drunk. They certainly had the volume of a group buzzed to hell and back. </p><p> </p><p>“But, Techno said you’d want to hurt us? And him? And Tommy said that Dream wanted to hurt him, too. Everyone’s just hurting each other and it doesn’t make sense.” Ghostbur leaned into Friend, gently knocking their heads together. Usually he’d joke about how clingy Ghostbur was or some shit like that, but now clearly wasn’t the time. </p><p> </p><p>“Why would we want to hurt you, Ghostbur?” Quackity stepped forward, gentle voice doing very little to mask the double meaning behind his words. “We just want to talk to Techno, he’s done a lot of bad things and we need to clear that up.”</p><p> </p><p>‘Clear that up’ his ass. “You’re really gonna fight a war criminal with like three kids as backup? Isn’t that dangerous?” </p><p> </p><p>“As if you didn’t pull cheap shots while you were in charge, <em>Friend.</em> Senile old man.” A familiar hum echoed in his chest, pulsing anger begging to be unleashed to the surface. Didn’t they know that Technoblade would kill them? Couldn’t they see? He ached to shake Quackity’s shoulders, yell at him that it was a suicide mission, convince him to see reason instead of walking off to his death. </p><p> </p><p>But he was acting. </p><p> </p><p>And that wasn’t his character. </p><p> </p><p>(And he didn’t want to yell anymore.)</p><p> </p><p>So instead, he mimicked the bewildered puppy-dog look he had ever seen Ghostbur pull, head tilting in mock-confusion. “Hm? What’s that supposed to mean? Who the fuck would put me in charge of something?”</p><p> </p><p>A quiet mumbling was heard from fox-boy. “That’s what I wanna fucking know.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re going to kill him no matter what shit you try to pull. If you weren’t dead, this would be your fucking funeral, Friend, mark my words,” Moving his gaze back to Ghostbur, Quackity hefted his axe into his hand. “So where exactly did you say you visited him?”</p><p> </p><p>“Over that hill! Here, I can show you!” Ghostbur’s smile seemed strained, but whether that was simply a figment of Friend’s imagination or not, he wasn’t sure. </p><p> </p><p>Heading back towards Technoblade’s house, with the other four in tow, he questioned why he didn’t just take Loverboy and run. They could probably make it. They were able to go incorporeal, so that would rule out a lot of traditional melee. And he doubted that anyone would aim for Ghostbur, he was harmless. It would be so easy. </p><p> </p><p>If only they had somewhere to go.</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur had run up ahead, untying the lead that had kept him and Friend connected, to inform Technoblade that the fucking cavalry was here. If the air wasn’t strained with tension before, the absence of Ghostbur only caused it to thicken. The raucous laughter and jeers that had been present before had died down, leaving Friend between an anxious ender hybrid, his ex, some random furry, and Tubbo. Frankly, he might consider a second death after all. It would probably be easier than dealing with this. </p><p> </p><p>Now, the reasonable response to this situation would be to stay quiet and wait for Ghostbur to return. </p><p>So obviously, Friend decided to strike up a conversation. </p><p> </p><p>“So what’s up with all the fucking blood?”</p><p> </p><p>Four heads, all in equal confusion, turned to look at him, a hefty amount of disgust on both Quackity’s and the furry’s respective faces. </p><p> </p><p>“What? It’s an honest question. God, I could smell you guys from a mile away. Dried blood really fucking reeks y’know. You get into a fight with some livestock or something?” Picking at the dirt under his nails, he tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, as if he wasn’t currently surrounded by a decked out group who happened to be thirsty for violence. </p><p> </p><p>Before anyone could answer, Ghostbur’s voice cried out, “Technoblade is <em>not</em> here guys!” Jesus fucking christ. It was a little too late for this kind of misdirection, Friend thought, though he appreciated Ghostbur’s attempt. It didn’t help, of course, that the man himself was standing on his porch, netherite axe in hand. </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade seemed to mirror his thoughts, turning to Ghostbur. “Uh, Ghostbur, I don’t think that’s going to work.” Shifting his focus onto the rest of them, his eyes narrowed in on Quackity, a look that could only be described as restrained bloodlust forming on his face. “So, what brings you all to my humble abode?”</p><p> </p><p>“Techno- Technoblade, you know why we’re here.” Wow, way to be vague, Quackity. “You need to pay for your war crimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Whoa, hold on, that was in the past, you guys! I’m a changed man now, I’m, I’m in retirement! I’m a good person now!” </p><p> </p><p>“You literally exploded L’Manburg.” </p><p> </p><p>Chiming in from behind Quackity, Tubbo took a step closer to the porch, hand on the hilt of his axe. “You summoned withers practically everywhere as well!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, exactly. Technoblade, as much as you’ve <em>supposedly</em> changed, you have to face justice for what you’ve done. And there’s nothing I can do to change that.”</p><p> </p><p>The gold jewelry adorning the smug pig glistened like the blade of a knife - cocky and dangerous. Friend’s mind began to race, telling him to grab Ghostbur and run, but his body wouldn't move an inch.</p><p> </p><p> “Listen you guys. I have gone, through so much effort, to change my violent ways. The voices? They <strong>demand</strong> blood. And I? I have been <strong>denying</strong> them. If you leave now, I won’t have to kill you. Please,” for a second, Technoblade’s demeanor wavered. “Please don’t make me have to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Technoblade, it’s four vs. one. What do you expect is going to happen?”</p><p> </p><p>Plagued by a sudden, new feeling of responsibility, Friend found himself torn between witnessing and intervening. He didn’t doubt that Technoblade could slaughter these four in a fucking instant, even if it was four against one. Would it be worth it to say anything? To get between an unstoppable force and an immovable object?</p><p> </p><p>Friend shook his head. Most of the fucking “force” was children, facing up against an anarchist war criminal. It had to be worth something.</p><p> </p><p>There was no way that he was going to watch anyone else meet the same fate as him. </p><p> </p><p>“Why don’t we all just try to be civil here?” Stepping between the two parties, he did his best to ignore the alarmed looks everyone gave him. “Frankly, I myself am much more interested in the fact that this guy has bees than anything else going on here.” </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade at least seemed to understand what he was playing at, walking over to the beehouse nestled next to the cabin. “I got bees here, these bees are nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you say bees?” There we go. Tubbo was already excited at the prospect, and he could tell that fox-boy and Ramble were as well, considering how their heads swiveled towards Technoblade. “He’s got bees guys! Look at the bees!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, look at the bees, aren’t they lovely-” The words were cut off by Technoblade breaking off into a dead sprint in the other direction, like a fucking idiot. He couldn’t have stalled any longer? This guy was fucking terrible at misdirection, seriously.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey the fuck get back here!” Quackity, no longer distracted, began to chase after the other, causing Friend to have to dodge out of the way in the process. “You know what? Fuck it! Techno, listen.” Technoblade stopped in his tracks, cloak billowing in the wind as he turned to face Quackity, the other three taking their places behind him. </p><p> </p><p>“We won’t let you get out of here in one piece. We’re going to fuck you up Techno. It’s either the easy way, or the hard way. We’re going to bring you back to L’Manburg, and you’re going to come with us.” Quackity’s voice was as cold as the snow that surrounded them, malice dripping from him like icicles. “Or, we kill you, and settle this right here and right now. So what do you say?”</p><p> </p><p>“If there’s no other way…” Pulling out a cluster of potion bottles, a wicked smile grew across Technoblade’s face. <strong>“I choose blood!” </strong></p><p> </p><p>The sound of shattering glass echoed around them like a scream as he threw them to the ground beneath his boots, charging the small group with murder in his eyes. Friend raced over to Ghostbur, hands holding tight to the other’s forearms, hoping that he’d get the message. “Loverboy, hide. I’ll follow after.”</p><p> </p><p>As Ghostbur ran off, hopefully to somewhere safer, Friend turned his attention back towards the bloodbath that was going on behind him. Four against one would have normally evened the odds at least a little bit, but he could already see blood, and it sure as hell wasn’t Technoblade’s. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh god he hits hard!”</p><p> </p><p>“Watch out!”</p><p> </p><p>What the hell was he supposed to do?</p><p> </p><p>“Friend, get these guys off me or it’ll be your head next on the chopping block!” Technoblade’s voice rang out above the others, a warning. But the only thing he could threaten him with was-</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t pause to finish that thought, rushing into the combat. A sword was thrust into his hands as soon as he got close enough, and it was barely in his clumsy hands before he had to use it to block the incoming swing of an axe that was meant for Technoblade. </p><p> </p><p>“Someone throw down some water!”</p><p> </p><p>What was he doing? This was fucking insane! These were kids for christ’s sake! They shouldn’t be fighting! They should be, like, eating mud or some shit!</p><p> </p><p>“Tubbo!”</p><p> </p><p>“Big Q!” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of a netherite axe heading straight for Tubbo’s chest. Quackity wasn’t close enough to help. Technoblade wouldn’t falter. Tubbo wouldn’t be able to dodge the attack. Without thinking, Friend rammed into Tubbo, letting him crash to the snow as Technoblade’s axe instead went through his own chest. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. He forgot to go incorporeal again. And it really didn’t feel nice on the way out either.</p><p> </p><p>But Tubbo was alive, if shaken, and that was the best he could hope for. Where the fuck had Quackity gone off to? The guy starts this fight and then just leaves when it gets tough?</p><p> </p><p>“Stop! Stop! Technoblade, stop!” Oh there he fucking was, riding in on a horse like a pretentious asshole. “You get away from them!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait hold on, what are you doing-” Technoblade sputtered. </p><p> </p><p>“You pull any shit, I’m going to fucking kill Carl,” A deft hand reached around the several buckles on the horse’s armor, causing it to slip off, clattering to the ground. “Get away from them or I fucking slay Carl.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you dare kill my horse. That horse is innocent.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then you’re going to cooperate with us. Drop your shit.” </p><p> </p><p>Technoblade took a glance around, left with very little options. It wasn’t as if Friend was in any position to help after that axe to the fucking chest. And Technoblade, who Friend never took as the sentimental type, seemed incredibly reluctant to do anything that threatened this horse’s life.</p><p> </p><p>“Drop it,” Quackity reiterated. “This is not a negotiation, this is a fucking demand.”</p><p> </p><p>Ever so carefully, Technoblade began to empty out his pockets. Potions, golden apples, his beloved weapons, piled onto the ground. For some reason, it just kept coming. How much shit did this guy have?</p><p>“How did you fit this much into your pockets,” Laughing a little breathlessly now that Technoblade was no longer as big of a threat to them, furry boy reached for the items, having trouble shoving them all away into his bag. </p><p>“I am a very wealthy man.”</p><p> </p><p>It took a solid five minutes for everything (surely that wasn’t everything, Friend had seen him take out more than that before) to be removed from his pockets, leaving Technoblade standing there only in his carefully enchanted gear.</p><p> </p><p>“And your armor.” Quackity’s voice was unwavering as he remained astride Carl the horse. </p><p>“Come on man, I spent a lot of time making this stuff, don’t take my armor-”</p><p> </p><p>“Technoblade your horse is going to die if you don’t take that armor off!” Jesus fucking Christ, what’s next, burning this guy’s house to the ground? “Take it off now!”</p><p> </p><p>Watching Techno’s armor clutter into a heap, Quackity finally seemed to calm down, if only the tiniest bit. “Now here’s how it’s gonna go. We tried doing this the easy way. But now we’re going to take you back to L’Manburg. You’re going to stand trial. Understand?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like bs but okay.”</p><p> </p><p>A clamor started up from the others, each with their own gripes over Technoblade’s flippant words. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh I insulted your government, ohhh your government has been insulted, whatever shall you do?” </p><p> </p><p>Oh shit. Ghostbur was heading back to join Friend. Which, in any other circumstance, would be a good thing. It was much less of a good thing when Friend happened to be in the middle of a fucking standoff. Shaking his head from where he lay curled up on the ground, he winced, as the snow underneath began to blister his cheek. This of course, only drew Ghostbur in further, concerned over the health of his companion. Friend tried to wave him off, tried warning him to keep hiding, because in the state that Quackity was in, he wasn’t sure that Ghostbur wouldn’t become a target. </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, he didn’t listen, instead hurring over to Friend’s side and lifting him wordlessly out of the snow, hands stained dark blue. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>As they followed the group through the woods, Friend began to drown out the mindless bickering from everyone else, letting Ghostbur carry him as his wounds slowly stitched themselves back together. </p><p> </p><p>Then they came to shore.</p><p> </p><p>Friend immediately scrambled out of Ghostbur’s arms, drawing attention to himself in the process. Was someone trying to talk to him? The world seemed to get further and further away from him. There were people around him still, and snow, but it all felt like it was on the other side of the glass - there was no hum of voices, no nipping cold or chilling wet, only a tingly feeling on his skin that reminded him of bugs crawling on his arms.</p><p> </p><p>Goddamnit, focus. What was happening? Behind the foggy glass, he thought he saw Ghostbur extend a hand to him, but all he could pay attention to were the waves; all he could think about was the ocean, the waves crashing over him, dragging him under the surface, water slowly, painfully filling his lungs-</p><p> </p><p>“Friend?” </p><p> </p><p>Swiveling to the sound, he couldn’t help but let out a high-pitched bleat in surprise. That shit came out of nowhere! Jesus, how long had he been gone? </p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy?”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur was looking at him, confusion written all over his face. Even the others had grown quiet, Friend noticed, as if they were waiting to see what happened next. Great, he’d gone from the side attraction to the fucking freak show.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re heading back to L’Manburg, Friend! I had to give the lead to Big Q because they needed something to tie to Carl’s boat, I hope Techno isn’t too terribly sorry about it. But we’re going home!”</p><p> </p><p>His body felt numb as even the tingles had long-since left him. Slowly nodding, he felt himself being pulled towards a wooden rowboat, sitting down beside Ghostbur as they slowly moved away from the land. </p><p> </p><p>As long as he didn’t look over the edge, he’d be fine. It would be fine! Everything would be fucking dandy, just as long as he didn’t think about it too hard. </p><p> </p><p>He certainly wasn’t thinking about how the boat could have a hole in it, and how they’d slowly sink below the surface, or how a stray wave could capsize them at any given moment. Or how, if Friend fell in, he might not be able to reform fast enough to avoid, well, dissolving completely. No, of course not! Why the fuck would he be thinking about that?</p><p> </p><p>The journey there was hell. He couldn’t even listen to Tubbo and Technoblade’s conversation about ratings or whatever the fuck they were talking about, because every time he stopped focusing on trying to keep steady, water would lick up the sides of the boat. Ghostbur, hands still pleasantly toying with the Blue in his pocket (when the fuck did he manage to find <em>more</em>?), didn’t even notice. Dude was on cloud nine, that’s for sure.</p><p> </p><p>God, the shoreline! Fucking finally! Thank the motherfucking gods. Friend was out of the boat in an instant, scrambling for the dry land. Someone snickered behind him, but whoever had done so had already gone quiet by the time Friend whipped around to face them. Coward. It wasn’t Ghostbur, or Ramble, and he could only hope it wasn’t Tubbo. He wouldn’t put it past the other three, though.</p><p> </p><p>The walk to L’Manburg wouldn’t take too much longer now. Ghostbur had started up a conversation with Tubbo, and so naturally, Friend chose to awkwardly hang back by Carl the horse. The poor animal seemed just as frightened as he felt. That wasn’t especially surprising, since it was being used as collateral against Technoblade, but it just felt too unfair. Gently, he began to stroke the horse’s mane, unsure who he was trying to calm down within this exchange. </p><p> </p><p>L’Manburg looked exactly the same as they left it, banners flapping gently in the breeze, unaware of the approaching storm. The same tall ass structure stood in the middle of the square, the same little houses sat on their stilts, everything was as they had left it this morning. </p><p> </p><p>It wouldn’t stay this quiet for long. </p><p> </p><p>A voice called out upon their arrival to L’Manburg, belonging to… some guy up in his house wearing a stupid striped bucket hat. What the hell was with these people’s fashion choices? </p><p> </p><p>“You actually got him?”</p><p>“Phil! Phil, what have they done to you?” The appearance of this Phil guy was enough for Technoblade to push against the group, ignoring the glinting weapons still digging into his back. </p><p> </p><p>“They locked me up on house arrest! Fucking put these, ankle monitors on me, I can’t leave my house!”</p><p> </p><p>“You leave Phil alone! Sure, take me, but leave him alone!” Fury danced in those blood red eyes of his as Technoblade turned to the group, teeth bared in Quackity’s face. Even as he stood with nothing, just the sight of the man’s anger was enough to send a shiver down Friend’s back. </p><p> </p><p>“Well... we already have you here. So I suppose it worked out in the end,” Quackity only met Technoblade’s gaze, smiling back at him in faux-innocence. “Now, why don’t I put Carl somewhere safe, and then we can proceed with the… activities.”</p><p> </p><p>“...You sound like a B-plot supervillain,” Friend quipped. His chest had finally finished stitching itself together (his sweater did not, he’d have to fix it fucking <em>again</em>), allowing him to float over to Quackity, flicking his helmet down over his eyes. It was a stupid move, he knew that, but hey, that was who he was after all. And if playing the cocky idiot was what calmed his jumping nerves and fast-beating heart, then fuck, he was gonna do it. He had a character to play, after all. </p><p> </p><p>Sputtering, Quackity pushed him away, frustration flashing across his face. “I didn’t ask for the fucking peanut gallery’s opinion, Friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, I’m just saying! What, do you plan out your monologues, or do you just improvise? ‘Cause next time, I’d try and script it. You keep repeating the same thing over and over again.”</p><p> </p><p> “Shut the fuck up! You know, now that you’re a ghost, you’re a lot less intimidating and a lot more fucking annoying,” Swiveling on his heel, he stepped onto the platform of the newest structure, letting his previous malice return to his voice. “Now, as I was saying. How about you get up here Technoblade, step into the box.”</p><p> </p><p>“What is this, some kind of kangaroo court? You didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself!” Technoblade blew a strand of hair out of his face, climbing onto the platform and into the center of the iron fencing. It was… unnerving, seeing him willingly step into what seemed to be a cage, the small window of glass putting him on display for all of L’Manburg. He didn’t especially like the guy, but shit, this was just cruel. “This is why you can’t trust the government! I can’t help but feel that this whole ‘trial’ thing is a farce, you seem to have already decided the verdict-”</p><p> </p><p>He was cut off before he could even finish his sentence, Quackity letting out a cold, hollow laugh. “You’re right. This isn’t a trial. This is an <em>execution</em>.” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A fucking WHAT?</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Leaving off on a cliffhanger? Me? You jest! </p><p>Even though I gripe about it, this chapter was incredibly fun to write. It's much more action packed than most of the other chapters, which I can appreciate. My beta reader was whining about editing this much though XD. </p><p>Speaking of them, show them some love if you could! There's no way these chapters would have turned out half as good without them, they are a god of words and I am merely their loyal prophet. </p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Girl Help The Butcher Army Is Trying To Kill Technoblade P. 2 (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*awkward laugh* heyyyyyyyy sooooooooo</p>
<p>Late update anyone? </p>
<p>Today was a total fever dream and honestly? I'm just impressed that I remembered to update at all. On the plus side, I got to see my beloved today so that's nice. I made them cupcakes &lt;3</p>
<p>Trigger warnings for this chapter are the same as the last, considering that this is the butcher army we're talking about. Injuries, blood, attempted murder (technically), uhhh small bit of deja vü for Glatt to the festival, you get the guist. </p>
<p>Without further ado, here's part 2 :p</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A fucking WHAT?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Technoblade, look above you. You see that anvil?” A finger pointed up to the anvil resting on the small platform, high above all of them. “When we pull that lever, it’s going to drop, and it’s going to fucking kill you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This couldn’t be happening. What they were describing was practically a guillotine, except for a hell of a lot more waiting, and a hell of a lot more brutal. They were fucking going to crush his skull! And-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And Friend had helped build it. Of course. Of fucking course he helped build it. Even when he tried to do the right thing, he just circled back to his old patterns of cruelty. How could he not have noticed? No one puts an anvil fucking however-many-feet in the air for any other reason. Was this why Tubbo was so vague about his project? Because it was part of some grand execution?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“To be fair, I just see a wood plank, it’s sorta a matter of perspective-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tubbo, would you do the honors of reading off the charges?” Quackity was speaking again, but the words sounded so far away, warping beyond comprehension. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clearing his throat, Tubbo took the stand, looking around at the small crowd. For the president of L’Manburg, he had never looked so small as he did up on that platform, a child in an adult’s clothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wouldn’t meet Friend’s eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Technoblade has <em>robbed our country.</em> Robbed it! Of everything that made it special. Of everything that defined what it was. He stepped in when he shouldn’t have. He-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A shout rang out at the sudden appearance of… some guy, the splintering of glass following as the area was drenched in weakness potions. Shards of glass struck against his legs as he moved to shield Ghostbur from the worst of it, the slightly dizzying effect of the potion already setting in.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Punz?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck is going on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nonononono, Punz, chill the fuck out!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was absolute chaos. Shrieks of outrage rose above the crowd as this... Punz guy did his best to throw the group into pandemonium. And by the looks of it, he was succeeding. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The oddest thing amongst the chaos, though, wasn’t the fact that Techno was beginning to look bored waiting for the anvil to drop, or the glint of something gold in his hands, or even the fact that this rando with a few bottles just threw off this whole fucking ordeal. No, it was that the other guy, the one in the stupid bucket hat, was <em>laughing</em>. Was it because of the chaos? Was it because of how botched this fucking execution was? Either way, the sound was sharp - enough so that it cut deeper than the glass impaled in his sweater.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the commotion continued, he could vaguely make out Ghostbur speaking to his brother, voice vacant of it’s usual… presentness. No wonder, his hands were darkened with the dusty Blue. The sight stirred an ache in Friend’s chest, joining the glass shards. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello Ghostbur.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi Techno! My hands are blue!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s fantastic Ghostbur, just fantastic. I’m about to die, Ghostbur.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An abrupt set of footsteps caught their attention. As they turned, they could see Quackity, out of breath and furious, stepping up to the guillotine. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck it, I’m pulling this lever! Rot in hell, Technoblade!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait, wait, can’t we talk about this-” The click of a lever cut him off, resounding over the now-still crowd like a gunshot. Friend forced himself to avert his eyes, turning Ghostbur into his chest. He didn’t have to see this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A clang echoed through the square. And with that, there was nothing. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Other than, of course, the unhinged, maniacal laughter of <em>a man who should have died. </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend felt everybody’s head whip around to face the noise, Technoblade already scrambling out of the bars that held him. Friend breathed a sigh of relief. At least they wouldn’t have another fucking ghost on their hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just before everything went to shit again and Technoblade made his second big escape, he threw Friend a look, a silent command in his eyes. He hated playing lapdog to this prick, but there wasn’t anything else to do about it. Quickly, he pushed Ghostbur to Bucket-hat, racing after his quickly disappearing silhouette. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the worst game of dodgeball Friend has ever played, he found himself veering between arrows, maneuvering around tree roots, and side-stepping someone’s diamond axe. Jesus Christ! He knew they didn’t play around, but that was just fucking stupid, now they didn’t have their weapon! Swiping it up just in case, he nearly was impaled - for the second time today - by a fucking trident. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Technoblade was mumbling again when he caught up, the two of them ducking into some random tunnel that he was at least half sure wasn’t there before, not that he’d remember, anyway. The dark-as-fuck tunnel up to a small room with dust-covered chests shoved against the walls. This was a <em>terrible</em> escape route if he ever saw one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And because this day absolutely <em>could</em> fucking get worse, Dream was standing there, waiting for them. At least Carl the horse was here. Yay.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Carl is safe and sound, don’t worry. Not a scratch on him. Well, at least nothing serious.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream seemed to almost circle around them, a predator attracted by the smell of fresh meat. While his eyes weren’t visible, Friend had an awful feeling that Dream was staring straight at him, waiting for an opportunity to strike. “Friend! Didn’t expect you at an event like this, but I suppose it’s not so different from, uh, a previous festival of yours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before Friend could rip him a new one, Techno held an arm in front of him, pushing him to the side. To Dream, it looked like protection, but Friend doubted that was the case. Technoblade probably just wanted him to keep his fucking mouth shut. After all, what’s blackmail worth if everyone already knows?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s the catch here, Dream? You aren’t exactly known for being… charitable. So I have to ask; what are you expecting from this?” Frankly, that was what Friend was wondering himself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh nothing much, nothing much, just, know that you, well, you owe me now. I’ll collect my favor at a later date, especially since you should be going. Wouldn’t want to be caught unaware, would you?” Extending a hand, he brushed the top of the chest closest to him, labeled with Technoblade’s name. “Your supplies are in here. I’ll be taking my leave, so this is all I can do for you, for now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The bastard gave a lazy two fingered salute before running off, like usual, barely even sticking around for Techno’s thank you. Probably because it ruined his image if he ever stuck around to deal with any of the problems he started. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fucker. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend remained close to Carl, silently running his fingers through the horse’s mane while he watched Technoblade rummage around in the chest, pulling out supplies. For someone who was one of the biggest powerhouses on the server, Dream had only given him fucking <em>iron armor.</em> Unenchanted as well! If he couldn’t spring for netherite, fine, but he could have at least gone with diamond! Even Friend knew that iron was nothing against the gear that Quackity and his gang had.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Here. Hold onto Carl.” He couldn’t help but startle as a lead was shoved into his hands, Technoblade turned away from him to mine out the escape route. Of course they made an escape route too small, when they were trying to escape <em>with a fucking horse.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Unfortunately for the two of them, they didn’t even get that chance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Because stepping into the room was none other than Quackity himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the fuck is this, Techno?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air shifted with Quackity’s arrival, seeming to crackle with electricity. A part of him itched to bolt, sink into the walls and feel the not-quite-there-ness of his incorporeal body against the stone. Quackity looked… murderous. Just the sight of the other was enough to send him running on a normal day, but when he was equipped with netherite armor? After almost killing a man <em>thought to never die?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, let’s say he was glad that he didn’t fucking have to piss when you’re dead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the hell is this? How the <strong>fuck</strong> did that anvil not kill you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh…” Techno started, nervously twirling the pickaxe in his hand, before Quackity cut him off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How did you- How did you even do that? I- and you got fucking <em>Schlatt</em> here too? What the hell is he doing here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you really think - that it would be that easy to kill me? You think <strong>death</strong> can stop me Quackity?” A dark chuckle escaped the pig hybrid’s lips, and Friend couldn’t tell if it was just the tension, but he could have sworn the room felt colder. “You know what? I’ve, I’ve got a lot to say. I was going to say it at your so-called ‘trial’, but we got a little interrupted.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quackity glanced at Friend for just a moment, eyes glinting with a terrible fear - an anticipation that undoubtedly felt more like plummeting and waiting for the ground than the warm hope of meeting someone new, or getting a fresh new start. Friend knew. He had felt that before, too. After a pause that seemed to stretch onto infinity, Technoblade resumed speaking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I <em>tried</em>, I really did, I tried to tell you all that government was not the answer. That the government was actually the cause of all your problems. I <em>tried</em> to convince you guys by fighting among you guys as brothers, and what did you do?” He stopped, drawing in a ragged breath. “You cast me aside. <em>Used me.</em> I tried to use force, thinking that maybe you’d listen to that, but that didn’t work either! And then, when I went into retirement? <em>When I swore off my violent ways?</em> <strong>You</strong> hunted me down. You’re not here for justice. You’re here because my ideas are a threat to yours. There’s no justice or peace in your <em>government</em>.” He spat out the last word, letting it land on the filthy ground between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t understand what we’re trying to build here, Techno-” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I understand completely! You’re just trying to accumulate power! That’s all you’ve ever tried to do!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That seemed to strike a nerve in Quackity. Frankly, it struck a fucking nerve in Friend, and he wasn’t even the subject of the pig man’s brutal words. He watched the muscles in Quackity’s face and neck tighten as he clenched his jaw, the screech of his axe dragging on stone resonating through the cavern as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Technoblade. “I’m building a country here. What we have over there is a country, and what we need, is an organization of power. And I don’t care how long it fucking takes me, but I am going to kill you. I am going to fucking kill you Technoblade.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Friend could feel his body lock up, torn by indecision in a situation where he wasn’t even sure if his choice fucking mattered. What could he do? It wasn’t as if he could stop the two of them, they already seemed prepared to rip each other apart. And their escape route was still too fucking small for Carl - running away was not in the cards for him. Technoblade’s voice, sharp as, well, a blade, cut through his thoughts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just have one question for you, Quackity. <em>Do you think that you’re enough to kill me?</em>” Sputtering, Quackity attempted to interrupt him, only to cut himself off. “Even unarmed, with iron armor? Do you really think you can take me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Quackity breathed. Friend didn’t. The silence banged against his eardrums, begging to escape, too burst out of this decrepit place. Then, just before it all became too unbearable, Quackity growled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s find out you son of a bitch!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two of them were on each other almost instantaneously, trading blow after blow in rapid succession. All Friend could do was stay out of their way, listening to the shouts ring out around him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now you have to use potions you motherfucker-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Swing, hit, scream. Repeat. Technoblade didn’t even seem phased, despite him only having a pickaxe as a weapon, he was laughing maniacally as the blood began to drip from their wounds. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have a pickaxe, and I’ll put it through your teeth!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He needed to leave, he needed to run, it was too much, too similar too loud-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have done so much damage to everything we’ve been building all the fucking long! So if there’s one fight that I’m planning to win, it’s this one!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that was it. Quackity, sprawled on the floor, the two of them panting in exhaustion. Techno raised the pickaxe, planning to finish him off-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>“No!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just before he could deal the killing blow, the pickaxe flew out of Technoblade’s hands, clattering to the ground. Friend’s head was throbbing with the effort, especially with the tight grip that Technoblade had had on that fucking thing, but that didn’t stop him from darting in front of Quackity, arms outstretched.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I- Technoblade, let’s just go.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...Step aside Friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The guy’s already injured. You’ve won. Take his armor or some shit, just- just don’t kill him. Please.” He could feel the judgemental stare from the other seep into his soul, but he couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. Sure, Quackity was getting kinda bloodthirsty, but for Technoblade to… y’know… for it? That was the pot calling the kettle black and all that shit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence stretched on, suffocatingly so, until finally, <em>finally</em>, Technoblade answered. “Fine. But if he comes after us again, I’m blaming you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A wave of relief washed over him. They wouldn’t have another ghost on their hands; at least not this time. Hatred burned in Quackity’s eyes, a familiar fire to Friend, but it didn’t matter. He would face that fire a thousand times if it meant Quackity would get to live.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was a quiet affair as Friend took Quackity’s things, leaving him with little to nothing and stripping him of any sort of power. Technoblade simply stood, watching with that unwavering stare of his. This was his punishment, he supposed, for protecting someone that <em>the</em> Technoblade had wanted dead. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey Technoblade. Hand me one of those regen potions, will you?” Quackity’s face was still bleeding, and if he kept losing blood, it wouldn’t fucking matter if Technoblade had spared him or not. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can’t seriously be-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A potion was silently pressed into his hand a few moments later, footsteps echoing as Technoblade continued to carve out their exit. Sitting Quackity up, he gently shoved the bottle into his grip. “Here. Drink. It’ll leave you with a nasty scar, but that’s the best I can do. Don’t die dipshit.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The other man was silent as he slowly took the potion. Not wanting to stick around any longer, Friend stood, and returned to Technoblade’s side. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t long before they had moved Carl out, settled into a boat to go back to Technoblade’s cabin. Friend found himself with an unusual sort of heaviness - not guilt, no, but... gratefulness? Maybe? Whatever it was, he wanted to expel it as soon as possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, uh… thank you. For not killing Q. It was probably hard for you, but I- I really appreciate it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Eh, you just got lucky - the voices were merciful this time.” That was… cryptic. But he wasn’t going to complain. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“...Sooooo can I go back now? I mean, it seems like you don’t really need the help of an amnesiac anymore, and I gotta go check on Ghostbur.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was merely a grunt in reply, but at least it was an answer. And that answer sounded a lot like yes, so he definitely wasn’t going to wait around for Technoblade to change his mind. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was back at the shithole that was L’Manburg. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Un-thankfully, it was raining. Which meant that he had to float under the shitty walkway like an idiot in order to stay dry. Fan-fucking-tastic.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur was still shaking like a leaf by the time that he got back in the square. Bucket-hat didn’t do shit to calm him down, even if the weak attempts at patting his shoulder begged the public to think otherwise. Not to mention the fact that Ghostbur kept sticking his hands in the-</p>
<p> </p>
<p> “Loverboy stop fucking with the rain!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur’s head turned to face Friend, face breaking into an even wider smile than the one usually plastered on his face. “Friend! Hello! Phil’s been sheltering me from the rain, we were wondering where you were! Everyone cleared out after the event finished, did you get lost?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You could say that. Had to help Technoblade esca- er, get Carl back home. He’s a big fucking horse after all.” The other ghost moved to greet Friend, only to once again get caught in the rain, his skin letting out a hiss as it melted. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did I say about the rain! Ghostbur, you’re gonna melt, go dry off near the fire for god’s sake. I’m fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you’ll get wet as well if I do!” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine, a- a little water never hurt no one. Just dry off,” Pushing Ghostbur’s hand back into his chest, he did his best to ignore the droplets seeping into his own, climbing up to sit under the awning next to him. Instinctively, he tugged the other away from the edge, even if the fall couldn’t necessarily injure him. He could feel Bucket-hat’s gaze on him the entire time, but frankly, he was a little too worn out to give a shit. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Apparently, Bucket-hat was not.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Friend was it? Techno’s told me a lot about you.” The way he said it, just... gave him shivers in all the wrong places. Did he know?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hopefully nothing too embarrassing, but knowing him, that’s exactly what he’d tell you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, nothing too big. It’s something you might even remember actually, I wouldn’t assume that it’s a good memory for you.” His voice turned unexpectedly chilly, frigid even. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course he did. Of fucking course he did. Because after this shitty day, it had to get even worse. “Look, I don’t know what Technoblade said, but-” Thunder rumbled in the far off distance, making him flinch. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ghostbur scooted closer to him at the sound, which, while a little embarrassing, was a comfort nonetheless. To both of them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bucket-hat merely shook his head, either disappointment or disgust clear on his face as his gaze flickering over the two ghosts, now huddled together. “Another time then. Let’s just watch the rain, shall we?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the topic dropped (<em>only for the moment</em>, his mind unhelpfully supplied to him), the three of them once again turned back to the downpour. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Seeing as the future only appeared to hold absolutely terrible possibilities, he elected to take this moment as it was. Even if the rain made his body shake, even if this new guy hated his guts like practically everyone else he’d met, and even if he didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Some godly person would preach about how he was ‘counting his blessings,’ but honestly? He was just gripping tightly to any good that he could manage to hold onto. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It seemed like these days, that’s all he could do. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ooooo Philza has joined the party. Wonder how that'll turn out &gt;:3 He's not looking too pleased with Glatt huh?</p>
<p>Also pro tip - if you aren't sure on how to write fight scene dialogue, you can just look back on the streams and finagle with whatever they said in canon! To be fair though, there are some absolutely raw lines already in there, so I can't really say much</p>
<p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. It Was Never Truly Home, But That Didn't Mean It Wasn't Important (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Does a gay little wink to throw you off your rhythm* Be prepared to cry, my beta reader sure did :)</p><p>Heyo! This is a decently heavy content chapter, just wanted to make that clear. Trigger warnings for animal death, blood, denial, mentions of potential su*cide, just a whole bag of fuck that. Be warned and be safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With all Ghostbur and Friend’s newfound free time, they had begun to make a habit of visiting Techno. Almost as much as Phil did, come to think of it - Ghostbur really did take after his father. While his brother would complain at times about the two of them ‘lurking around his property,’ he never quite asked them to leave. In fact, he seemed to rather enjoy their company! It was comforting, waking up to Friend’s arms around him, and the soft shuffling of Techno getting up to make food.  </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Loverboy. We should go check on Tommy today.”</p><p> </p><p>Previously, Friend had been curled into his side, crooning out another lullaby, voice thick with sleep. He seemed to know an awful lot of those. Whenever he was extremely tired, Friend would begin to hum or sing them to himself, almost on instinct. It was always followed with him wrapping his arms around himself, or Ghostbur if he was nearby, as if there was supposed to be something, or someone in his arms that the songs were for. Whenever Ghostbur tried to solve this peculiar mystery, he only found himself growing unexpectedly sad, and in need of the Blue in his pockets. </p><p> </p><p>Many of the lullabies themselves were rather sad, too. But Ghostbur didn’t mind. It was one of the few moments that Friend was willing to be, well, vulnerable, so he never interrupted or brought attention to the fact. If he were feeling bold, he would hum along, clumsily trying to follow Friend’s careful melody. Friend seemed to brighten a little whenever Ghostbur did that, and suddenly, Ghostbur wouldn’t need his Blue anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Now, Friend was staring up at him, eyes seeming to search for something. He could only guess at what that was. </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t we visit Tommy yesterday?” </p><p> </p><p>Friend began to say something, but cut himself off, sitting up. “No, no that can’t be right. I was- well, yesterday was shitty for me. I remember most of it, actually. We haven’t been back in… a fucking while.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, that can’t be right, we must have! For, for something!” Nudging heads with him, he tried to force the gears in his brain to turn. “Didn’t we go deliver those invitations? For the party?”</p><p> </p><p>Friend’s expression flashed for a moment, something that he couldn’t identify. “No, Loverboy. We didn’t. Someone else did that for us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! Then of course! I’ll get our cloaks, it’s chilly outside, and I’m not quite sure if it’s going to snow again.” Sticking his head through the floorboards, he called down to Techno. “Oh Technooooo!”</p><p> </p><p>He stifled a laugh as Techno fumbled the bowl of mashed potatoes he was holding, looking up at him with wild eyes. “Can you give me some warning next time you decide to ram your head through my ceiling?”</p><p> </p><p>“Friend and I are going to visit Tommy!”</p><p> </p><p>Techno sighed, “Just don’t die on the way, I’m not gonna babysit Friend <em>again</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will keep that in mind. We should be back, uh, whenever we’re back!” To be fair, they did come and go as they pleased, so Ghostbur was never entirely sure when they would get back. He wouldn’t want Techno waiting up for them if they were a little late.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, really keeping a schedule there huh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep! Don’t forget, you’re in charge of my cactus while I’m gone!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Ghostbur, we never agreed on that-”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye!” He pulled his head back up from the floor (or, well, ceiling for Techno), gathering up his and Friend’s cloaks. They were going to see Tommy again! He hoped Tommy had been doing well, though, he was on holiday! Why wouldn’t he be doing well?</p><p> </p><p>He clasped his own cloak around his neck before tossing Friend’s around his shoulders, making sure that Friend was able to correctly fasten it. </p><p> </p><p>“I can fucking do it myself Loverboy, it’s not like it’s hard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, but when you do it yourself, we usually spend an extra ten minutes trying to figure out how you tangled the chain so badly.”</p><p> </p><p>There was merely a grumble in response, Friend crossing his arms impatiently as he allowed the assistance. It was funny, how he’d always complain at first, but eventually give in to Ghostbur’s help, as if he was a small child throwing a fit. It reminded him of a certain fox boy he knew...</p><p> </p><p>“There you go! All done!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah yeah I get it, come on you cuck, let’s get moving. You’ve saved your precious ten minutes.” A smile was thrown his way, as Friend took his hand in his. Not bothering to take the front door (they didn’t need to, being ghosts after all), the two phased through the wall out into the open air. </p><p> </p><p>It was always refreshing to go for a stroll in the snow, and with the boots that Techno had given them, reforming wasn’t an issue they needed to worry about! Not that Ghostbur was all too worried in the first place. There was no way that Ghostbur could ever hate the snow, even if nowadays it was a little dangerous to him. It was involved in so many happy memories! Sure, he couldn’t have snowball fights with his brothers anymore, or make snow angels without his back turning to jelly, but that was okay! Sometimes, it was enough to just be able to see it, the feeling of home in the frigid tundra. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you think he’s had his party yet?” Looking over at Friend, he let their interlocked hands swing as they walked, pleased when he was met with a gentle squeeze.</p><p> </p><p>“I dunno Loverboy. I can’t even remember when the fuck it was supposed to be.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then maybe we could go! I don’t think I went to many beach parties as Alivebur, but I remember that they were fun!”</p><p>A shudder ran through Friend at his words. It was cold outside, after all! Nevermind the fact that there hadn't been a chill breeze to prompt the odd response. Was he worried about them missing the party?</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think we’d be able to do most ‘beach party’ things. Don’t people usually go swimming at those?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, sure, but there’s also games! Outside the water that is, not everyone knows how to swim well I would think. Oh, Friend, we could make sandcastles!”</p><p> </p><p>Friend chuckled a little at Ghostbur’s childlike enthusiasm. “Hey, if we ever go to one of those, you aren’t allowed to swim. You’ll get washed away in the ocean for fucks sake, staying in the water that long.” Ghostbur laughed in response, poking at Friend’s side. </p><p> </p><p>“You just say that because you don’t want to have to deal with carrying me back while I’m melted!”  </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe, maybe not. It’s a pain either way.” Both turned back to the path in front of them, pacing slowly until they reached the nether portal, the dark obsidian clashing with the bright snow like ink on paper. </p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur and Friend spent much of their journey through the Nether sharing jokes and taking playful jabs at each other, the banter creating a warm bubble of comfort around them, despite the screeching of the damned echoing occasionally off the red walls. The heat of the Nether itself was rather comforting too, and Ghostbur wondered if it reminded Friend of home, they way that the cold reminded him of it. He was almost tempted, if only a little bit, to call off the whole visit and spend the whole time in the Nether, just feeling the heat of the lava and friendly conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Something was… off, though. When the two reached where the portal was built, the frame was empty, void of the pulsing purple light required to travel through to the other side. Did Tommy accidentally spill water on it from his side? </p><p> </p><p>No, he’d surely relight it if he did. He went to the Nether an awful lot. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe it was raining? A shudder ran through him at the thought, despite the heat of his surroundings. Rain was… well, icky. </p><p> </p><p>He’d never heard of it disabling portals before, though. The wide frame protected the light for the most part, and the few stray raindrops that did manage to touch it did little damage. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey uh, Friend? Did you happen to bring a flint and steel?” He let go of the other’s hand as he stepped forward, fingers tracing the outline of the portal almost solemnly.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, but I got something that’ll get the job done without it. You got any clue ‘bout why it isn’t glowing and shit?” Friend had already torn an empty page out of his memory book, letting it catch fire on a nearby lava pool before tossing the paper into the portal frame. A resounding hiss followed, the portal once again thrumming with magical energy.</p><p> </p><p>“No idea, Tommy always has his portal lit. You think he knocked it over or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well Loverboy, let’s find out.”</p><p> </p><p>Deep, swirling patterns of dark purple moved before them, but Ghostbur didn’t stop to pay much attention to them.</p><p> </p><p>Appearing on the other side, he regretted having not stopped to admire the portal. </p><p> </p><p>Anything would have been better than the sight that greeted them.</p><p> </p><p>Friend stood beside him, just as dumbstruck as he was. “Uh… what the fuck.”</p><p> </p><p>It was almost as if a battle had broken out, the kind that left only scars on the land and soldiers that bravely faced it. The quaint little area that had been Logstedshire had been decimated, the ground stained with ash and gunpowder. Even the cobblestone tower, prideful despite its ugliness, was knocked over, stones dotting the field where it once stood; a toppled giant amongst the wreckage. </p><p> </p><p>If that weren’t enough to tip him off, the remains of Tnret - Tommy’s tent - brought him dangerously close. Tatters of white fabric were strewn across what remained of the grass, the entire thing burnt and torn to pieces. Remnants of an ender chest lay buried halfway into the dirt. It must have been the first thing to go.</p><p> </p><p>And… oh… the silent corpse of their mooshroom. Mushroom Henry’s corpse lay lifeless in the middle of it all, eyes glassy with death. </p><p> </p><p>A wispy reflection of the mooshroom stood nearby, and she spooked slightly, lifting her head as they approached. Despite her feat, she didn’t shy away when Friend stepped towards her, gently taking a hold of the ghostly harness that remained over her head.  </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay girl. No one can hurt you now.” It was whispered so quietly that Ghostbur had to strain to hear it, even as he walked forward to reach them. Mushroom Henry simply snuffled into his hands, before extending the treatment to Ghostbur, a gentle spirit even in death.</p><p> </p><p> Ghostbur gently tugged the harness off of her, letting the incorporeal, heavy harness drop to the ground, an oxymoron as puzzling as the rest of the situation they found themselves in. She didn’t need it now. Not anymore, at least. His throat felt tight, and he found himself only able to press his forehead against hers in anguish. </p><p> </p><p>“Go. Find somewhere happier. You deserve it.” A hand - Friend’s - reached out, stroking her head in slow motions, careful not to catch on the mushrooms dotting her skin. A moo was given in response, before he felt her nose in his hair, licking at the strands like a giant puppy.</p><p> </p><p>It only took a few seconds, but Ghostbur began to feel her form fading beneath his fingertips, ready to move on. Backing up, he stood, taking in the sight of her leaving this plane for the next. </p><p> </p><p>He hoped she would be happier there. </p><p> </p><p>Friend and him averted their gaze away from her corpse, eyes panickedly searching the rubble for the missing piece of this hellscape puzzle. The pain had become overwhelming. Ghostbur scrambled for his Blue, his shaky hands only managing to grab a small handful in his haste as the rest poured out of his pocket. The scant amount of Blue he did have instantly darkened, spilling out from his open hand as if he were spreading someone’s ashes.</p><p> </p><p>Tommy had to be here, he’d tell them what happened! And Ghostbur might not remember it, but at least they’d have Tommy! They could bring him back to Techno’s, and he would warm up by the fire and have a cup of tea and they’d all share stories until the morning. Then Ghostbur would have his family together again! Everything would be fine!</p><p> </p><p>It had to be.</p><p> </p><p>The other ghost beside him suddenly grabbed Ghostbur’s hand tightly in his, looking straight up. What was he doing that for? Tommy couldn’t fly-</p><p> </p><p>His gaze followed Friends, and all of his thoughts screeched to a hard stop.</p><p> </p><p>There, against the harsh outline of the sky, was a pillar. Piles of materials stacked haphazardly one after the other, stretching up as far as the eyes could see. The structure, if you could call it that, seemed to sway with every breath of the wind, a death sentence for-</p><p> </p><p>Tommy. They needed to find Tommy.</p><p> </p><p>“Tommy? Tommy?!” He raced towards it, beginning to feel the telltale pinpricks at the corners of his eyes, letting go of Friend in the pursuit of finding his brother. “Tommy, are you here?”</p><p> </p><p>There had to be something. Anything, that would show what happened. His limbs were already beginning to feel weighed down, whether by the branches that tore at his body, or the grief blossoming in his chest. But he persisted, frantically searching at the base of the pillar for any sign that Tommy was there. </p><p> </p><p>His mind raced in the panic, beginning to plague him with scenarios that only seemed to spiral down, down, down. No one could have survived a fall from that height, but so far, he hadn’t found a bod-</p><p> </p><p>He shook his head, trying desperately to clear the thoughts from his mind. Tommy was fine! Tommy was fine. Tommy was-</p><p> </p><p>A sob racked through his body as he crumpled to the ground, a paper doll crushed beneath the hand of a careless child. He searched helplessly in his pockets, a pitiful amount of Blue spilling out around him. Lying there, covered in indigo-dark powder, he couldn’t help but think of blood, the way it stained his hands and ruined the lovely sky color of the clothes that Techno lent him. Blood always seemed to ruin the sky, and his clothes, and everything.</p><p> </p><p>Did Tommy not come back for them?</p><p> </p><p>A shadow fell over him. Ghostbur turned to the source with the effort of lifting a mountain and was faced with Friend standing above him solemnly. His hand was held out, a silent question hanging between them. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t long before Ghostbur answered it. He pushed himself up weakly as he grabbed Friend’s hand, pulling the two of them together. They clung desperately to one another, two anchors intertwined in a long, deep sink to the bottom of the ocean. He would let himself have this. For his brother. For Tommy. Before Ghostbur would inevitably forget it all.</p><p> </p><p>He always would forget. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey! So I wanted to give y'all a heads up for a couple things. One! Next chapter won't be as angsty, but its still on the similar wavelength, so keep that in mind! After that, I'll give you guys a break and write something soft, these guys really need it. Two! As a lot of these are backdrafted chapters (I wrote them all out beforehand which is to say) I happen to be close to the point where I don't have them all prewritten. So I might end up taking a teeny break to catch up, just so I'm not scrambling to finish (or stressing out my beta reader too much, Rose is already stressed enough)</p><p>Thank you for reading though! Feel free to leave comments or kudos if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. It's The Shovel Talk All Over Again (Glatt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>....any Phil fans in the chat?</p><p>Prefacing this, trigger warnings for the threats against Glatt, talk of death, mention of s*icide from Alivebur, Ghostbur repressing EVERYTHING that happened last chapter, and uhhhh yeah. If i need to add anymore, always feel free to let me know, k? Otherwise, let's just get into it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t know how long it was before they could leave.</p><p> </p><p>Every time that Ghostbur had stopped crying and looked up, he’d see the tower, or the camp, or Logstedshire, the rubble of the place that hadn’t quite been comforting enough to be a home, and it would just set him off again. Fuck, the amnesia was usually bad, but this was somehow worse. Friend was trying his best to stifle his grief - if he started crying, then Ghostbur would start crying, and then they’d never get out of this place. But it was starting to take a toll on him. If he’d have known he would’ve been stuck here so goddamn long, he would’ve brought a book or something.</p><p> </p><p>Some way or another, he managed to coax Ghostbur away. Even if they would have to take the long way to Technoblade’s house, it was better than nothing, especially since the nether portal wasn’t an option. It was too close to the wreckage, Ghostbur wouldn’t be able to make it past even if Friend covered his eyes. The gunpowder still hung in the air after all, heavy and thick and smelling like a forest fire. So it looked like they were visiting Ghostbur’s (other) brother again. The one that threatened him. And blackmailed him. Great.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t even care that the Enderman in a boat nearly gave him a second heart attack when he phased into Technoblade’s house. They (It? He?) always did, looking at him with those fucking vacant eyes and constantly making the weird ‘vvrop’ sound at him like they were trying to tell him something. They were probably trying to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be here, that he should be in hell. Or they could be talking about the weather. You never know.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t seen Technoblade around, but knowing him, he was probably out grinding for resources and shit, feeding into his own paranoia (if the dude supposedly never died, why the hell did he worry about it so much?). At least he didn’t have to worry about Technoblade harassing them about stealing his tea. Friend figured he would be making Ghostbur fuck ton of Earl Grey before he got anywhere <em>near</em> calm, at least in the absence of that Blue crap. </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Friend did not account for the newest character in the shitshow that was Friend’s life, Phil. Unaffectionately known as Bucket-hat. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello Ghostbur, Friend. You two mates’ doing alright? You’re looking a little rough there,” Bucket-hat asked, esturing to the Blue-stained cloak around Friend’s shoulders, as well as the state Ghostbur was in. He wasn’t fully… there, gripping onto only the stuff that piqued his interest and zoning out the rest of the time, the way that little babies do when they’re too distracted by the bees and flowers and sunlight to notice the arguing-</p><p> </p><p>It’s fine. Deep breaths.</p><p> </p><p>Goddamn, Friend needs to get out of here, whatever that means.</p><p> </p><p>Phasing in and out of corporealness, Ghostbur barely had acknowledged that Bucket-hat was even here, and certainly wasn’t making any move to answer him. Friend piped up in his place.</p><p> </p><p>“Went to visit Tommy… couldn’t find him.” Any more than that would surely set Ghostbur off again, he was so fragile right now that the smallest thing could cause him to shatter.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing here then? With the kettle, no less?” What the fuck was this, an interrogation?</p><p> </p><p>“M’ making earl grey. Coming here was easier than going home, less of a walk.” </p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t take you for the tea type.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not. Loverboy up here likes it though.” Could they just skip to the part where Phil tells him that he hates him? The small talk was rotting his insides for fuck’s sake, and it didn’t help that Ghostbur had begun to braid Friend’s hair in his haze. There’s only so many goddamn characters one person can play at once, and between having to play casual with Bucket-hat and… whatever the fuck he was playing with Ghostbur, he was starting to crack.</p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy?” That fucking eyebrow raise. Goddamnit, was Bucket-hat going to criticize every word that came out of his mouth?</p><p>“Ok look, you’re fucking pussy-footing around the tension in the air, so why don’t you just come out and say whatever the fuck you want to say?” Biting his cheek, Friend fought off the last of what he had wanted to say <em>- like a man</em>. Say it like a man. Friend almost chuckled at that. He wasn’t a man now (at least not a living one), and he certainly hadn’t been when that phrase had been burned into his tongue. </p><p> </p><p>Turning away from Bucket-hat for a moment, Friend tugged Ghostbur down to their level, gently knocking their heads together before pressing a warm mug of tea into his hands. “Here. I’m going to talk to Phil outside okay? I’ll be back later. Don’t fuck with the stove or anything while we’re out.”</p><p> </p><p>While there wasn’t much of a response, Ghostbur didn’t drop the mug, so that was a good sign. </p><p> </p><p>Figuring Bucket-hat would follow, he grabbed his cloak and headed outside, hearing the crunching of footsteps behind him. Of course, Bucket-hat brought out his sword to the party as well. This was the shovel talk all over again. </p><p> </p><p>“So. Techno’s told me you aren’t as stupid as you make yourself out to be.”</p><p> </p><p>There was a correct answer. For the love of gods there had to be one. But knowing there was one, and knowing what it was, were two different matters entirely. Friend had no fucking clue either way. </p><p> </p><p>What did Phil expect from him? To beg for forgiveness? Anger, hot and hungry and all-consuming? Friend knew he couldn’t give him what he wanted. He felt an all-too-familiar kind of numb instead, seeping into his bones, indifferent to how people seemed to hate him.</p><p> </p><p>And oh, how Phil hated him. Even with his cold, seemingly uninterested stare, his hatred was barely restrained.</p><p> </p><p>“You remember everything. All the damage you’ve done. And you hide it. Why? What are your plans? Lure everyone into a false sense of security? Wait until their backs are turned so you can make your next move?”</p><p> </p><p>Friend took a deep breath.</p><p> </p><p>And confessed.</p><p> </p><p>“Technoblade must have skimped on the details, Bucket-hat. I don’t remember everything. I just remember the bad shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“What fucking difference does that make?” Giant wings, pitch black and menacing, flared out from behind Phil, looming over Friend. Holy fuck no one ever said he had wings hold on- </p><p> </p><p>“It makes a big fucking difference. That’s all I can remember from my life.” Who the fuck did this guy think he was?</p><p> </p><p>Laughter, drier than any desert, echoed around them, out of place among the snowy tundra they found themselves in. “Oh sure, as if it was a life worth remembering. Because of you, my son is dead. You know, the same one that you’re <em>constantly following around.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Clearly the snow had been getting to this guy. Wilbur had been alive during Friend’s death, just like the rest of the crowd, staring at the freak show that Friend was. There was no way that Friend killed him. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about? I died before that could have happened. Keeled over in front of everyone, Wilbur included. I don’t think I was even sober enough to throw a punch at him.” Phil only grew closer with each word he spoke, punctuating the end of Friend’s sentence with a jab to his chest. From here Friend could see his wings up close, feathers and flesh both burnt and torn in rough patches, the mark of a man who had seen hell and was forced to carry the burden of living. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh really? Then tell my why, after your death, I received a message on comms from my own son that equated to a suicide note? Tell me why I dropped everything to find Wilbur, only to be told by him that the country that my son created no longer existed, to realize that the <em>son</em> I created no longer existed? The same son that you exiled? The one <em>you</em> drove to insanity? Look at the crater that is L’Manburg and tell me this wasn’t your fault!”</p><p> </p><p>No. No, that couldn’t possibly be right. Phil had to be pulling his leg, it was all a twisted joke!</p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>“Wilbur... Wilbur wouldn’t do that. There’s no way that he’d leave Tommy alone. And he’d never go out by an explosion. It wasn’t his style.”</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence. </p><p> </p><p>“He didn’t die from the explosion.”</p><p> </p><p>Huh? “Then what did he-”</p><p> </p><p>Phil froze. The weight on his shoulders seemed to double as he bowed his head, gaze dropping to the snow. At some point in their argument he had pulled his sword on Friend, but he held it with less confidence now. His hands shook, threatening to let the weapon drop. It did.</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, Friend realized exactly what kind of hell Phil had seen.</p><p> </p><p>“You. <em>You</em> killed Wilbur.” Friend took a tentative step back, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, unable to tear his eyes away from the sappy poetic shit deeply etched into the hilt of the sword. “That’s Ghostbur’s handwriting. He doesn’t carry weapons or shit like that, but there’s no way that isn’t his.”</p><p> </p><p>“How do you-”</p><p> </p><p>“I might have loaded the bullet, but you certainly shot the gun on this one, huh?” He couldn’t even bring himself to laugh under these cruel circumstances, already feeling his legs lock up in fear. He met his eyes. ”You can’t even deny it. Is that why he’s got a fucking stab wound through the chest?”</p><p> </p><p>“My son gave me this sword in that room and begged me to kill him. Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how much it pained me to look him in the eyes as I did?”</p><p> </p><p>“It clearly wasn’t hard enough, considering you still killed him! Don’t you know that you’re supposed to get help for people like that? Instead of following their fucking death wishes?” His voice wavered and rattled as images of Ghostbur, stupid and sweet and naive, floated in his head. “Shit, I might not be an expert, but when your son tells you to kill him, I’m pretty sure the logical answer is to <em><strong>not</strong></em> do that! And why didn’t you come help him earlier, huh? Why was it that when he needed you most, you came at the last possible second? That you finally reached him <em>when he was already so far gone?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The sword was instantly at his neck, pricking at his only-sort-of-there skin, still wet from the snow. “You think I <em>wanted</em> to kill him? You think that I wouldn’t do anything to have my son, my <em>real</em> son, back?”</p><p> </p><p>And like the eye of a hurricane, everything was hushed. Both seemed to wait, in either reprieve or deadly anticipation, for some sign of the storm that had only just passed through. If Friend focused hard enough, he could hear the erratic thrum of Phil’s heart, like the violent constancy of a flag caught in the swirling vortex of a tornado.</p><p> </p><p>In theory, he couldn’t die a second time. You can’t exactly kill something that’s already dead. Not to mention, Phil’s sword couldn’t hurt him unless he wanted it to, being incorporeal and shit. But something in that man’s eyes told him that if Friend kept pushing, Phil would stop at nothing to do it. So, for once in his life, he stayed silent.</p><p> </p><p>“My son was never a fighter. Wilbur preferred words to a sword, if he was forced to fight at all. It was <strong>your</strong> actions that led to his downfall. If you had never got a hold of that place, my son might still be alive. ” Phil brought the sword ever so closer to his neck, enough that Friend could feel the pinpricks where it would have bled. “Because of <strong>you</strong>, he was just an echo by the time I got to him, a remnant of the man he once was, and not even death could save him from that fate. And if you even <em><strong>think</strong></em> of harming him, I’ll make sure you’re just as empty.”</p><p> </p><p> The sword fell away from his neck as Phil stepped back, maintaining a careful watch over Friend as he sheathed his weapon. Friend, for his part, did his best not to fall into the snow, his shitty prey-animal knees no longer wanting to fucking work like they should. His body shouldn’t feel this numb, right?</p><p> </p><p>Phil… hadn’t said anything else to him, so he assumed that they were done here. For now, at least. A small part of him was absolutely livid that he had to leave with his tail between his legs, but it was better than testing Bucket-hat’s thin patience by staying. </p><p> </p><p>Pushing his way back into Techno’s cabin, he began searching for Ghostbur, hoping that the tea had helped calm his fragile state. He couldn’t dwell on his thoughts for any longer, he couldn’t break down here. Especially with Ghostbur nearby. “Loverboy?”</p><p> </p><p>Quiet paddering responded to his call, followed by a head of curls peeking out from behind the kitchen door. “Friend!” Oh thank the gods he wasn’t so out of it. “How was your talk with Phil?”</p><p> </p><p>“I, uh, let’s just say I don’t think he likes me much.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you in no time! He’s a big softie when you get to know him.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll… have to take your word for it Loverboy.” He sighed. How fucking pathetic had he become? He couldn’t even stand up for himself to Bucket-hat, and now he was whining to Ghostbur about it? His life was already pitiful enough, he didn’t need his afterlife to be the same. </p><p> </p><p>He felt a gentle tug at his arm, letting Ghostbur pull him into his arms. “You know, maybe we should check back up on L’Manburg. It’s been a bit since we’ve been back! Home is probably a little dusty by now.” </p><p> </p><p>“More like moldy, we live in a fucking sewer system.” Numbly, he rested his head on the other’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Lately they seemed to move between tragedies, getting out of one pot of hot water just to land themselves into another. It was fucking exhausting, to say the least. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe they’d at least get home before another one broke out. </p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t count on it though. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OKAY EVERYONE, HEADS UP, I AM STANDING ON THIS PODIUM WITH A MEGAPHONE</p><p>Next chapter will be softer! I promise! I'll give you guys a little break from the angst, i know its been very sadness heavy the last few chapters. And who knows? Maybe you'll finally meet that character y'all hypothesized about earlier, hm?</p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. A New Friend & An Old Memory (Ghostbur)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PUFFY SQUAD?? ANY LOVERS OF PUFFY IN THE CHAT TONITE??</p><p>So that foreshadowing? Yeah, it's all coming together. This is the first (but not the last!) official appearance of Puffy, so I like to think it was worth the wait. And hey! Only mild angst in this chapter! So no trigger warnings I believe, thank goodness. Have fun!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was awfully quiet for a Tuesday.</p><p> </p><p>Was it a Tuesday? He wasn’t quite sure. When your body doesn’t require a schedule to function, you tend to lose track of time rather quickly. It was alright though! He didn’t really mind.</p><p> </p><p>Much.</p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t the matter at hand. The real problem Ghostbur was currently having was that Friend was so gloomy! Not that Ghostbur knew why - he never bothered to ask. Asking only made <em>him</em> sad, and if he was sad, then who would do the cheering up? Anyways, Friend was not feeling too happy, and Ghostbur was having difficulty finding him to drag him along- er, politely invite him on a walk around L’Manburg.</p><p> </p><p>“Friend?” This had been the first time in… well, a while that Friend wasn’t right by his side… maybe he was in the other room?</p><p> </p><p>Stepping into the library, a quick glance around disproved his thoughts. The piles of books were in the same stacks as always, neatly organized without a trace of Friend. Outside then?</p><p> </p><p>He let himself rise up from their home, calling out once again once he reached the surface. The only sounds that greeted him were the gentle whisper of the wind, and… sniffling? Someone wasn’t crying, were they? “Friend? Are you there?”</p><p> </p><p>The sniffling stopped almost immediately at the sound of Ghostbur’s words, replaced with Friend’s voice echoing from above him. “I’m busy Loverboy, come back later.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright? What are you doing on top of the crane?”</p><p> </p><p>“None of your fucking business that’s what.”</p><p> </p><p>“Could you come down please? Either you come down to me or I go up to you, you could hurt yourself up there!”</p><p> </p><p>A beat of silence hung in the air just before Friend drifted down to meet him, eyes red and puffy. “We’re fucking spirits Ghostbur, that doesn’t make sense. It’s not like it's raining or some shit.” The other shuffled, eyes darting away from him to focus on something else.</p><p> </p><p> “You don’t know that! And it's always better to be safe than sorry-” He wasn’t sure if it was his scolding, but Friend had gone unnaturally still for some reason. Ghostbur hadn’t been too harsh on him, had he? “Friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Loverboy, whatever you’re saying, great, totally, now can we please go somewhere else?”</p><p> </p><p>“What? Why would we-”</p><p> </p><p>Someone cleared their throat behind him before he could finish his sentence. </p><p> </p><p>“I uh, couldn’t help but notice you two fighting, are you both okay?” </p><p> </p><p>Oh! It was Puffy! That was unusual, she wasn’t normally in L’Manburg, was she? Especially not with a crate of flowers in her hands. Maybe she was making a garden? “Friend was- wait, have you met Friend yet?” Judging by her shocked expression and how Friend had gone pale as a sheet, she hadn’t! Silly him! No wonder both of them looked so anxious, they were probably worried about having to pretend to know each other!</p><p> </p><p>“I think I knew Friend from before he was Friend.” She gave Ghostbur a smile before turning her attention to the other ghost. “Do you… remember me? Or... anything?” </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck if I know. Maybe? You seem kinda familiar, I guess. But maybe that’s just ‘cause you got the same ears and shit. Hair’s different though.”</p><p> </p><p>Now that Friend brought up ears, Ghostbur noticed that both his and Puffy’s ears were twitching quite rapidly, probably listening out for something. “My hair’s different? Yours used to be white y’know, you must have dyed it after-” She paused, looking away for a moment, before starting again. “After you uh, left.”</p><p> </p><p>Friend seemed to stiffen up at... whatever that implied, beginning to float in an effort to conceal how badly his legs were shaking. It seemed to be time for Ghostbur to take over the conversation. “So what are you doing here in L’Manburg? With… several bouquets?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just restocking the shop, I had to head through here to get to the flower field.” Shifting the crate from arm to arm, she glanced back over to Friend, her smile a little strained. It was probably from how heavy the box was! She had been carrying it for who knows how long! “Would you two care to help? I could use the extra hands.”</p><p> </p><p>“We have other plans-” “Of course!” </p><p> </p><p>From the corner of his eye, he could tell that Friend wasn’t too happy with this new development. But they couldn’t be rude now, could they? Puffy needed help! Even if Friend seemed a little shaken up. This would be a good distraction for him, maybe let him get his mind off of things. </p><p> </p><p>“Great! I’ll show you guys to our shop! It’s just over the hill from L’Manburg.” Ghostbur moved to grab the box out of Puffy’s hands, neglecting his lack of corporealness. Before he could even process what was happening, the crate was passing through his hands and tumbling to the dirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh dear!”</p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, Friend caught the crate before it went crashing to the ground, grumbling about ‘noodle arms’ or something of the like. He didn’t think it would be that heavy! “Thank you Friend! I hope it’s not too much for you!”</p><p> </p><p>There was only a soft grunt in reply, as the two followed along behind Puffy. For some reason, she kept glancing back at the two of them, mouth pursed tightly in an expression Ghostbur couldn’t place. </p><p> </p><p>“So uh… what have you two been up to? I haven’t seen you around much.” </p><p> </p><p>“Lots of things! We visited Techno, I got a cactus, Friend made me tea… and that’s all just from this week!” </p><p> </p><p>“Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Mmhm! I think we also visited Tommy, but he wasn’t in Logstedshire, so we didn’t stick around,” Oddly enough, both Puffy and Friend flinched at his words, Friend’s hands gripping the crate even tighter. Was it something he said?</p><p> </p><p>“That’s, that’s lovely Ghostbur. Friend, what about you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm not… entirely sure. Whatever Loverboy says we did, we probably did. I don’t remember a fucking thing.” If he didn’t have his arms full, Ghostbur would have held his hand. Friend looked like he needed it. </p><p> </p><p>“You don’t remember anything?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. Well, a few things. Tubbo. Quackity. Fuck, even you look familiar, so there’s probably memories in there somewhere, but it's all pretty fuzzy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can you make out anything from before the 16th?” </p><p> </p><p>“You’d have better luck asking a fish to fly. From what my book tells me, I was shitfaced half the time, so I’m not especially surprised that I don’t remember much.” The conversation stilled for a moment, Puffy seemingly unable to respond. </p><p> </p><p>Is that why Friend always seemed uneasy around alcohol? They didn’t have any at their own home, but he knew that Techno and Phil kept some for special occasions, and at that market they went to, there were stalls full of it. Ghostbur quietly filed this information away in his head, in case he needed it later. You never know! In the meantime, he ought to butt into their conversation. Things were getting a little… tense.</p><p> </p><p>“What about you? What do you remember, Puffy?” Smiling a little wider, he matched her pace so that the two of them were side-by-side, Friend trailing behind them. “You said that you knew Friend from before, so you must have plenty of good memories to talk about.”</p><p> </p><p>“I- well, I suppose. He is my brother, after all.”</p><p> </p><p>… Huh?</p><p> </p><p>Puffy looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the tassels on her red overcoat. “I know it might sound a little alarming, and he might not remember it very well, but we… we grew up together. It was in this sleepy little village out by the coast, far away from this SMP. Wasn’t even in the same system as this one. Our grandmother used to tell us stories about pirates, and all the creatures that lived in the sea.” A dry laugh escaped her, more like a huff of air than anything. “I used to pretend that my dad was a pirate like the ones from all those stories she told. It was easier than accepting the reality anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur remained silent, letting her speak. Part of him itched to give her a handful of Blue (it always made things better, didn’t it?), but if Friend and Puffy were siblings, she’d likely be just as stubbornly opposed to using it as Friend was. Could he sneak some into her pockets? </p><p> </p><p>“When we were little, we were always down at the port, watching the ships go by. Guessing what kind of cargo we thought they were carrying. If we weren’t there, he’d probably dragged me down to the beach to play with him. I used to joke that he was part squid, considering how much he loved the water.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh really? Friend doesn’t like water much anymore. It’s a little harmful to ghosts, but I’m not afraid of it. This scaredy cat, on the other hand, he won’t even go <em>near</em> the water!”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth pursed at his words - a look of displeasure, and a little bit of something else. But before she could say anything, Friend piped up from behind them. “As much as I <em>love</em> overhearing you two talk about me, we missed the flower shop.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait a moment, you’re right! Sorry about that boys, here’s the shop.” Backtracking, they were met with the sight of a homely brick building, flowers tumbling up and off the roof like a head of curls. It was rather lovely, if Ghostbur said so himself! </p><p> </p><p>“Welcome to the store! Friend, if you could set that crate down on the table, I’ll categorize them after I take inventory.” Puffy didn’t spare the two of them more than a glance as she began her work, a blur of movement, even with her short stature.</p><p> </p><p>The inside of the shop itself was a cozy kind of small, emphasized by the clutter of giant bouquets of flowers and ferns. A pair of coats (one of them Puffy’s) hung on the hook by the door, and somewhere in the shop, something was playing gentle music. Ghostbur was so wrapped up in the calmness of the room that he forgot to speak, only later finding his voice (and manners).</p><p> </p><p>“When did you make this place? It’s beautiful!”</p><p> </p><p>Puffy smiled as she turned to him, flicking droplets of water off of her hands. “Thank you, me and my girlfriend made it together. It’s a little small, but we get a stable amount of customers to keep it running. Well, those who don’t just steal from it anyways. Though, with this server, I wouldn’t expect much else.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your girlfriend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, right! I’m not sure if you two know her, but I really ought to introduce her to you if you don’t! You’d like her, she’s just the sweetest.” She carefully began sorting through the flower crate, picking out a bouquet of daisies. “I think she’s out at her friend’s town at the moment, otherwise she probably would have been here. She packed up her bakery recently, said that it was ‘too full of bad memories.’ It worries me sometimes. She always loved it so much, and to just stop like that…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure she’s doing well! Probably moving on to other hobbies,” Talking about her girlfriend is clearly making her upset. Maybe Ghostbur should change the topic? “Tell me more about Friend?”  </p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur, can we head out? Puffy’s probably busy and all, we should let her work instead of chatting her up.” Friend, who had previously been silent, piped up from across the room, arms crossed over his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m actually free for the rest of the afternoon, if you’d like to listen…?” </p><p> </p><p>“We really shouldn’t-” “Of course!”</p><p> </p><p>She beckoned them to sit, pulling up a chair herself. “Where do you want me to start?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember anything about when you two were kids?” Friend threw him a dirty look, but Ghostbur knew that he was just as interested, if not more. It was his past after all! And he must have been so adorable as a baby! </p><p> </p><p>“Hm… I probably have a couple.” She pressed her hands together, grin growing bigger at the prospect. “There was one time he was trying to talk to this cute girl he liked, I think it was in highschool?”</p><p> </p><p>Already, he could hear the low rumbling of a groan from Friend as the other spirit buried his face into his hands. “Oh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep! Bought her a bouquet and everything. Only, by the time he actually saw her, he had stress-eaten the entire thing. And they were roses! I’m surprised that his mouth wasn’t bleeding while he was talking to her, the thorns are usually pretty painful to eat.” </p><p> </p><p>“Friend! Were you really that shy?” Giggling, he turned to his companion, poking at his side playfully. </p><p> </p><p>Friend swatted him away with a hand, the other still over his face in embarrassment as he directed his attention to Puffy. “Out of all the potential stories, you had to go with one where I looked like a fucking idiot, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, what kind of sibling would I be if I didn’t take every opportunity to mess with you?” She stuck a flower behind Friend’s ear in passing, a rose, this one without thorns.“I’ve got plenty more where that came from. What about your magician phase?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never been so glad to have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah, it was a big thing for you. You had this huge book about misdirection and general magic that you took with you <em>EVERYWHERE.</em> Any time that Grammy pulled out her deck, you were immediately asking if she’d want to see a card trick.”</p><p> </p><p>Ghostbur could only imagine a small Friend carrying around a book too big for his arms, but even the thought of it was incredibly endearing. “Aww, that’s so cute! Why didn’t he become a magician if he was so good at it?”</p><p> </p><p>Friend did the tiniest shake of his head at Ghostbur just before Puffy spoke again, softer this time. “Things got… complicated. He got into some trouble that he probably shouldn’t’ve, and was a little too busy for magic anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>“What trouble?”</p><p> </p><p>Puffy shot a glance towards Friend, before turning her attention back to Ghostbur. “Well… he wasn’t careful enough. And then suddenly, he had his own little lamb to take care of. I tried to help where I could, but he was so scared that he’d be the same as our parents, that he couldn’t be enough for his baby, that-” Her voice trailed off, gaze drifting out the window of the shop, almost listlessly, as tears started to trickle down her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>This wasn’t what he wanted at all! Puffy was crying! He should-</p><p> </p><p>Before Ghostbur could move an inch, Friend was up at Puffy’s side, a sleeve brushing away her tears, even as his own eyes began to water. “I… I think that’s enough storytelling for today,” Friend whispered shakily. The grief radiated off him in waves, making something in Ghostbur’s chest ache, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. </p><p> </p><p>“But-”</p><p> </p><p>“Ghostbur. We’ve done enough. We should get going.” Friend didn’t even seem to realize that he was crying again, even as he was guiding Ghostbur to the door. That certainly couldn’t be good for him! Now was one of the times where he really wished that they would accept some Blue. </p><p> </p><p>“What happened to Friend’s baby?” Even as he was being pushed towards the exit, he needed to know how the story ended. It had to have a happy ending, right?</p><p> </p><p>Puffy gave him a solemn look, crossing her arms as if she were trying to shrink in onto herself. She seemed determined to sit there in silence as Friend dragged Ghostbur out of the quiet shop, but just before it was shut, he heard a whisper that shattered his heart -</p><p>“He gave him away.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Backstory pog?</p><p>Ayo, just wanted to get something out of the way before you go! Remember how I said in a previous chapter that in the near future I might take a pause due to lack of backdrafted chapters?</p><p>Well uh, that future is now. </p><p>Don't worry! It won't be for too long. Perhaps two, two and a half weeks? There's some content heavy stuff in the next chapter that we want to make sure we portray respectfully and that takes time when, well, your schedule is hectic already. So no chapter next week! Hope this one made up for it though :p</p><p>Feel free to leave kudos or comments if you enjoy, positive affirmation is always lovely to hear! :D</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. (This isn't actually a chapter I just wanted to talk)</h2></a>
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    <p>Hey!</p><p>It's me!</p><p>Two weeks is up, and, holy crap I'm tired. I was super busy these past two weeks, busier than I thought I'd be. So uh, no chapter this week unfortunately, I literally don't have it ready for you guys. </p><p>Sorry about that!</p><p>I just wanted to let you guys know that. Will continue this, don't worry, this isn't a discontinuation! Just a notice. </p><p>Thanks! That's all from me. Feel free to reread anything in the meantime. Tell me if there's any grammar mistakes will you? XD</p>
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